


Hair Pulled by the Stars

by Cassiara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (sort of), Addiction, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottom!Harry, Choking, Depressed Harry, Depression, Drama & Romance, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Excessive Drinking, Friendship, Harry and Pansy are friends, Hung Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Pining Harry, Promiscuity, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Top Draco Malfoy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, charity work, top!draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiara/pseuds/Cassiara
Summary: Harry runs away from responsibilities as if they’re Voldemort reincarnated. He’s decided he wants to be free, and the best way to feel that way is to stay alone. That is, until he crashes into Draco Malfoy. After that Harry learns there is freedom in commitment, relief in responsibility and that happiness can only be found if you allow other people to rely on you. He doesn’t once consider the risks.This is a story about loving someone so much you lose yourself entirely, but also about being loved so much you almost forget about being lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this AMAZING person, MaesterChill, agreed to beta this story, so now I'm posting the revised version. Enjoy the improved redability, wording, grammar and just generally - story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Find my beta: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/profile
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: https://cassiaratheslytherpuff.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic playlist is here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCYVbB3uOYKLRwaSdd7AS5W3Utmg1OXbq

_“I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.”  
Anais Nin_

"Harry, you ready yet?" Ron yelled from downstairs.

Harry surveyed himself in the mirror. He couldn't decide if jeans and a shirt would be under or overdressing for Ginny’s New Year’s party. 

"What are you wearing?" He called down to his friend. 

Ron had insisted they arrive together to the party. Harry had a strong suspicion it was actually a plot Hermione had cooked up to make sure Harry actually went this year. Harry didn't really like New Year’s Eve, being a holiday all about starting over and reinventing yourself. He didn't think he wanted to start over anymore, and he was quite comfortable as he was.

Harry was still studying his reflection when he saw Ron appear behind him. Ron was wearing jeans and a jumper. Harry was definitely overdressed in comparison.

"Dude, that's fine. Stop bloody fussing, let's go," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"No," Harry said, "I'm overdressed, I'm not going" 

"It's one of those days, huh?" Ron asked. 

"What days?" Harry said. 

Of course, he knew exactly what Ron was talking about. It was one of ‘those days’ where Harry just knows that if he goes out everyone will see right through him and decide they actually hate him after all. He didn’t feel much like admitting that fact, however. 

"Harry, it will be fine. You'll know everyone there. And if it sucks I'll take you home myself, yeah? Also, there will be alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol, Ginny even bought tequila" 

Harry snorted at that, his love of tequila was a little too well known among his friends. 

"Oh, and you're not overdressed. Blaise always wears a full suit for these things, I dress casual to annoy him mostly. Everyone else wears something, ugh what's the word?" Ron asked, gesturing at Harry. 

"Semi-formal?" Harry suggested, smiling at his friend.

"Yeah, that one. You look perfect, really. Can we please go before George eats all the snacks?" 

When they arrived at Blaise and Ginny’s flat there were still a lot of snacks, and to Harry's relief, a lot of tequila. Harry was already four shots in when he noticed the blond. Deciding it had to be a trick of the eyes Harry had another shot to clear his head. It didn't do much good though, because as he was biting into the lemon Draco fucking Malfoy walked past him again.

"Ginny!" Harry called. He turned to look for her, and found her standing right behind him, rubbing her ear.

"Little louder next time Harry, I think you only managed to deafen me inn the one ear."

"Who is that?" Harry demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Malfoy. 

"Who, Draco?" Ginny asked. She looked confused, but Harry couldn't quite decide if it was fake or not.

"Yes, Malfoy, what the fuck is he doing here?" Harry asked. The question came out harsher than he had intended, but Harry found himself too angry to take it back. 

"Uh, well he's my fiancée’s friend, why wouldn't he be here?" Ginny said, "Besides, I thought you two got along alright these days."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, then reached out to support himself on the counter when all five shots suddenly hit him at once. Ginny was right, Harry supposed. He hadn't fought with Malfoy in years, it had actually been closer to the opposite. Ever since Ginny started dating Blaise, Malfoy had become a regular at group gatherings, and he and Harry actually got on rather well once they managed to stop trying to murder each other. 

Draco Malfoy had grown up to become the most responsible person Harry knew, except maybe Hermione. The man did everything right, all the time. He worked a 9-5 job Harry had no hopes of comprehending at the ministry, volunteered at least once a month, always arrived on time and never raised his voice. The list went on and on, but the most annoying part in Harry's mind was the boyfriend. Whom, by the way, Malfoy was supposed to be celebrating New Years with in Canada. 

Harry suspected the relationship wasn't the best, not if he counted the three occasions Malfoy had definitely been flirting with Harry. It didn't really matter though, because Mr. Decent Malfoy would never dump anyone. And he definitely wouldn't fuck Harry while still in a relationship, he probably wouldn't even do it without being in one with Harry. And that was the root of the problem, because Harry _really_ wanted Malfoy to fuck him. In fact, imagining it was his favourite wank material. Having a rough one off with Mr. Good-guy Malfoy was impossible though, and it wasn't even just the 'hi I'm Mark, a good Samaritan from Canada' guys fault. Harry knew that the cost of getting Malfoy in bed was commitment, and commitment was a no-go for Harry. 

"Harry, you still with me?" Ginny asked, waving her hand in Harry's face. 

"Yeah, just the tequila hitting me like a bludger to the head," Harry said, placing his focus back on the conversation. “And we get along fine, but I thought he was supposed to be off to Canada with the maple guy?" 

"You didn't hear?" Ginny said. She grinned, and her eyes shone with the promise of gossip. "Mark dumped him, like, an hour before they were supposed to leave."

"He what? Why are you smiling, that's terrible," Harry said.

"Relax, we both know the relationship was shit. They were bored out of their mind with each other. I'm pretty sure Draco was just relieved."

Harry had to agree with that, and Malfoy definitely didn't look heartbroken. In fact, Harry thought he looked a bit drunk. In the five years Harry had known Malfoy as anything other than a dickbag he'd never seen him sloshed. Harry would probably have been worried, if Malfoy wasn't also laughing his arse off at something Hermione had just said. 

"Maybe you should fuck him," Ginny suggested, sounding nonchalant as ever. As if she hadn't just said something outrageous.

"What!?" Harry sputtered, not at all able to formulate words. At least he'd managed not to choke on his beer.

"I'm serious, I know you think he's fit. And he thinks you are, besides, it could be good for him. A night of fun, cleansing his palate and all that."

"What, so you want me to be the rebound guy? Thanks Gin," said Harry, mock offended. 

"You love being the rebound guy, and you know it," Ginny laughed.

"True, but seriously, no way in hell Malfoy would go for it. If I'm a fuckboy, he's a serial dater. It would be a disaster." 

"I'm not really hearing objections from your end though," said Ginny.

"Well no, he's fit. That's pretty much what I look for in a person you know." 

"Glad to know you only dated me for my looks, arsewipe," Ginny said, grinning.

"You should feel honoured, really. You're the only person I ever made the effort to have a relationship with." 

"Oh, so that's why your response to finding out I'd cheated on you with Blaise was 'thank fuck'?" 

The memory of that evening always made Harry laugh. He'd been dating Ginny for about three months after the war had ended. Ginny had arrived through the floo, looking like the world had ended, and Harry had immediately been worried it actually had. Ginny had explained how she’d met this guy, and after talking at work for a couple of weeks she'd slept with him at the office barbeque party. Ginny had been crying, apologizing over and over. Harry had sat in silence for a few moments, waiting for his anger to rise. It never did though, instead he'd felt relieved. 

"Freedom is an underestimated feeling," Harry said, still laughing. 

“You do realize freedom and responsibility aren’t opposites, right?” Ginny countered. “Besides, I still don’t get why you’d get so angry just by seeing Draco.”

Neither did Harry if he was being honest. Maybe it was just the frustration of endlessly being confronted with what he couldn’t have. 

“I don’t know Gin, you know I don’t do too well with surprises,” he said instead, which was true. Sort of. 

“Yeah, that and rejection,” Ginny said, grinning as she grabbed a bottle and left the kitchen. 

 

Hours later it was Harry who cast the tempus charm to count them down to midnight. They'd all decided to brave the cold outside to admire the fireworks. At least, admiring was all they would be doing after Hermione had confiscated the variety of magical fireworks George had brought. Harry was chatting with Ron about brooms, although the rest of the group butted in constantly with opinions. 

"One minute," Harry called, checking on his charm. His friends were all standing around him, and it felt like the best way to start a new year.

"30 seconds," he said, watching as Blaise popped a bottle of champagne. 

"10.. 9.. 8," Harry started, setting the pace for the countdown. The others all joined in, yelling the numbers with increasing intensity. Harry beamed at his friends, excited for a new year. This one would be better, he decided. He'd try to overcome some more of the bad parts of his crazy. And looking out at his friends, he felt like he wouldn't have to do it alone. 

"3..2..1!" The group cheered, but all of a sudden it wasn't a group anymore. What had felt like a gathering of friends turned into one of couples, as everyone sought out their special someone for a kiss. Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Blaise, Seamus and Dean, George and Angelina, and Luna and her girlfriend Vera were all wrapped up in each other.

The grin Harry had put on to share with his friends fell from his face. He couldn't help it. The feeling of belonging that had been so strong seconds ago had just disappeared. Sure, Harry had friends, lots of them. It was even confirmed as the couples broke apart and the friendly hugging began. Harry plastered the smile back on, but he didn't really feel it anymore. Harry was comfortable alone. He was safe and free, and he didn't have to make himself less to make someone else shine. And no one had to do it for him either. Harry knew that, chose that, he _wanted_ that. Yet, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that had struck him as everyone turned to their partner and he was left looking at his feet wouldn't disperse. It would have been easier had his friends been single too, but of course that had never been realistic. 

Needing a moment, Harry excused himself. By blaming feeling cold and wanting a drink he managed to get inside while the others remained to watch the sky light up. It wasn't until Harry nearly sat right on top of the other man that he realized he wasn't the only single one at the party, not anymore. There, on the sofa Harry had been about to throw himself down on, was Malfoy, looking particularly gloomy. 

"Did you actually join the couples outside?" Malfoy asked, swirling the ice cubes in his drink. 

"Yeah," said Harry with a sigh "won't be doing that again." In fact, Harry had pretty much decided to reinstate his tradition of celebrating new year’s alone, or with only Ron and Hermione the years they pitied him enough to skip out on a party.

“Horrendous holiday, new year’s” Malfoy said, “especially for those of us who are single. At least for Valentines it’s socially acceptable to not celebrate if you’re not paired up”

“Valentines is great for hooking up too” Harry said, smirking at Malfoy. He’d been doing this for years now. Throwing out remarks about casual sex, half-hoping Malfoy would take him up on the silent suggestion. It had worked on quite a few people, but Harry only ever managed to make Malfoy look awkward or resigned. 

“Maybe I should take a page out of your book this year” Malfoy said, shooting a mischievous look at him, which for some reason caused Harry’s stomach to flip. He was sure he hadn’t seen that look since their Hogwarts days, and decided that Malfoy had to be very drunk indeed. He had never been one to back down from a challenge though.

“There is no need to take a page from my book when you can simply take me,” Harry said, and immediately regretted it. Who even says things like that, he thought, hiding his red face in his hands. Harry decided that he too was, in fact, very drunk. 

“Maybe I will,” said Malfoy, “I’ve heard the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Malfoy was blushing too, thank Merlin. Harry didn’t think he could do this whole jokey flirting thing unless Malfoy was embarrassed too. 

“You’re out of luck with me then, I much prefer to be the one underneath,” Harry said. He immediately reached out for the nearest bottle of alcohol and took a swig, relieved when he discovered it was tequila. It wasn’t that he’d never flirted with Malfoy before, he tended to do that a lot actually. It was more that Malfoy had only ever flirted back three times, and it had always been a subtle thing. There was nothing subtle about what they were doing now. This was flirting, hell it was more. And they were both so horribly bad at it. 

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all year” Malfoy said, and Harry couldn’t stop himself. He snorted, just barely managing not to get tequila up his nose. That seemed to break some mental wall, because seconds later Harry was laughing. Harry at least, was determined he was laughing, because he was definitely not having a giggle-fit. 

“Something funny?” Malfoy said, crossing his arms.

“It’s just that we’re so fucking terrible at flirting,” Harry said, still laughing. Malfoy frowned, but it wasn’t long before Harry suspected he was trying not to laugh himself. 

“Shut up Potter,” he said, looking ridiculous as he tried to frown and hold back a laugh at the same time. Well, Harry thought, there was only one response to that. 

“Make me” he said, deciding that horrible flirting didn’t matter as long as Malfoy actually did make him. 

Of course, after Harry told Malfoy to make him shut up there wasn’t really a need to anymore. A tense silence had fallen, where neither of them could quite manage to look the other in the eyes. The air crackled around them, and Harry’s mouth went dry with want as he took in Malfoy’s pale elegant neck, creamy white collarbones, and the barest outline of stiff nipples under his sheer blue shirt. Harry was aching to kiss Malfoy, because then Harry could take him home and get his hands on all that milky skin. But it had to be Malfoy who made the first move. Harry had to know the other man really wanted it. The silence was becoming too intense though, and Harry needed Malfoy to move _now_. 

“Scared?” Harry asked with a smirk, hoping he could spur Malfoy into action. 

“Never,” Malfoy said, swallowing, and looking directly at Harry. His cool grey eyes narrowed, and suddenly Harry couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Malfoy grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in. They studied each other’s faces up close, breathing hard, and Harry got the feeling Malfoy was looking for something. He must have found it, because seconds later he pulled Harry all the way in and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was hard and determined, and fantastic. 

Fucking finally, thought Harry, and kissed Malfoy back with all he had. He tasted of firewhiskey and cinnamon and Harry couldn’t get enough. Malfoy released his shoulders, using both hands to grab Harry’s hair and pull him in even closer. Harry had to steady himself with both hands on the sofa, meaning Malfoy had complete control of the kiss. All Harry could do was take it, it was perfect. Harry was just starting to consider moving onto Malfoys lap when he heard the door open, followed by voices. 

They both pulled away at the noise, but Malfoy’s swollen lips and hungry eyes made Harry want to lean back in. To hell with their friends. It looked like Malfoy was having the same internal struggle as Harry, because he still hadn’t let go of Harry’s hair. 

“Floo?” he suggested, and Harry grinned. 

“Yes, quick before they all come in here,” Harry said. He didn’t mind much if their friends saw what they were up to, but he was scared they’d somehow kill the mood or make Malfoy too embarrassed to leave.

Malfoy let go of Harry’s hair, and jumped up with surprising speed. Harry thought Malfoy was a particularly good drunk, because he didn’t even wobble a little. Harry wobbled a lot when he tried to stand, but when Malfoy grabbed him Harry was glad he was a clumsy drunk, the warm hands felt good on his hips. They ducked into the kitchen just as Harry heard Hermione calling his name.

“Mine?” Harry asked, as he grabbed the floo powder. They were running out of time now, Hermione would probably check the kitchen first when she didn’t see him in the living room. 

“Yours,” Malfoy confirmed, grabbing some floo powder for himself. 

Harry had a brief moment to, once again, regret his floo address, before he tossed the powder into the fireplace. 

“Harry Potter’s super-secret floo address,” he said, making sure Malfoy heard it so he could follow. 

After the spinning and banging of elbows was over Harry stumbled out of the floo, only managing not to fall because of the chair he’d strategically placed after one too many bruises. He immediately turned to his fireplace, suddenly scared Malfoy wouldn’t follow him through. It only took a few seconds before the flames turned green though, and Harry sighed in relief. He wanted this. He wanted it a lot. 

“Super-secret floo address?” Malfoy said, arching one blond eyebrow. Harry was about to start the ridiculous explanation when he decided he really didn’t want to. 

“Never mind that” he said instead, letting go of the chair and grabbing hold of Malfoy.

It was different, kissing Malfoy standing up. Harry was shorter, so he had to tilt his head up. It was also totally and completely necessary for Harry to stand very close, of course. Harry put both hands around Malfoys neck, pulling the other man even closer. Malfoy’s hands were on Harry’s waist, but they were moving, Harry hoped, slowly towards his arse. Malfoys hands felt so warm through Harry’s shirt, and now Harry longed to feel them on his bare skin. 

Suddenly the hands disappeared completely, and Harry was about to complain when they reappeared firmly, grabbing Harry’s arse and pulling their bodies even closer. Harry groaned, both at the incredible feeling of Malfoys hands on his arse, and at how his groin was now rubbing against Malfoys. He wasn’t surprised to realize they were both hard.

“Bedroom,” he managed after breaking the kiss. He looked at Malfoy, hoping with all he had the man would come with him. Malfoy was still breathing hard after the kiss, and it took most of Harry’s self-control to wait for an answer instead of leaning back in. 

“Fuck yes,” Malfoy said, releasing Harry.

Harry was quite proud that he managed not to run as he led Malfoy to his bedroom. He may or may not have taken the stairs two at a time, but who was thinking about that, really? Harry was too occupied with the fact that he was about to have Draco Malfoy in his bed, and hopefully in himself as well. 

Following the logic that he wanted Malfoy inside him as soon as possible, Harry began undressing as soon as he reached his bedroom. In his eagerness, he didn’t turn around to face Malfoy until he was fully naked, and he immediately regretted his decision when he realized the other man was still fully dressed.

“Er, you alright?” Harry asked, awkwardly trying to hide his still hard cock behind his hands. 

“Yes, of course. I was just wondering -,” Malfoy trailed off as his eyes found Harry’s naked crotch. “Uhm, well, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Am I sure?” Harry asked, actually feeling offended at the question. “I’m standing here starkers Malfoy. My dick is literally pointing at you.” An awful thought struck Harry then, what if Malfoy didn’t want to? He’d probably never had casual sex in his life, and even if he was about to start, was Harry really the one he wanted to do it with? 

“I want to,” Harry said again, “but I won’t blame you if you don’t. It’s alright if you want to leave, no hard feelings or anything.” Harry actually wanted to say that yes, there would be hard feelings, literally and figuratively, but he also wanted Malfoy to fuck him because he actually wanted to, not because he felt guilty. 

Malfoy seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, before he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head and started on his belt. Harry watched, mesmerized, as more and more pale skin became visible to him. In the darkness of the room it almost looked like Malfoy was glowing, although Harry knew he wasn’t really. He might as well have been though, Harry decided when he was finally faced with a fully naked Draco Malfoy. He was gorgeous, and yet, that word wasn’t enough to describe what Harry felt as he studied the other man. Harry had imagined Malfoy naked countless times, yet, seeing it, him, like this, was beyond what Harry’s imagination had managed to come up with. Malfoy was paler, first of all, especially in contrast with the darkness of the room. He didn’t have the defined six pack Harry had imagined, instead he was thin enough that Harry could see the edges of his hip-bones jutting out. 

Following the almost invisible line of hair down from Malfoys navel, Harry finally reached what he’d most been anticipating. Surrounded by trimmed, blond, curly hair lay Malfoy’s cock. Although lay wouldn’t be the right word in this exact moment, as Malfoy was just as hard as Harry. Looking at it made Harry’s mouth water, it was big, even bigger than Harry had imagined it would be. Everything about Malfoy seemed obvious, like every piece of him had been designed to look mouth-wateringly beautiful and fuckable. 

“Fuck,” Harry managed, more desperate with the need to have Malfoy in him than ever. Malfoy remained silent, though, and when Harry finally tore his eyes away to look at the man’s face, he thought he looked uncertain. 

“I, er, I know I’m a little big,” Malfoy muttered, not looking at Harry. “for a lot of peoples tastes at least. I don’t have to – you know, if it’s too much.”

“You are big,” Harry said, grinning. “I can’t fucking wait to have you in me.”

Malfoy lifted his eyes from the floor and looked at Harry with surprise. Harry realized that you had to be the kind of person to enjoy the sensation of being stretched and filled past the point where you thought you were full, to enjoy Malfoy’s cock. Surely though, Malfoy’s ex boyfriend had been that kind of person, just like Harry was. Yet, Malfoy looked surprised by Harry’s reaction, indicating the opposite. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” Harry decided to ask, curiosity stronger than his need for a short moment.

“You’re the first person who’s seen it and not decided they want to top after all,” Malfoy explained, his expression of shock slowly turning into an amazed wonder. “I have topped, of course, but it usually ended up being too much for the other bloke, so I went back to bottoming.”

Harry weirdly found bravery in the fact that Malfoy was obviously feeling nervous. He climbed onto his bed, laying down on his back and propping a pillow underneath his arse. 

“Well lucky for both of us, I really fucking love the feeling of ‘too much’,” Harry said, reaching out to wandlessly summon his lube from the nightstand.

Malfoy was on top of him only seconds after the bottle of lube hit Harry’s outstretched palm. The feeling of skin against skin made Harry groan loudly, a noise that only intensified when Malfoy started rubbing their groins together. The friction was amazing, but it only made Harry want more. 

“Take the lube,” Harry said, pushing the bottle into Malfoy’s hand and begging both Merlin and God that Malfoy would put something inside him already. 

Malfoy took the bottle and sat back between Harry’s legs, squeezinga generous amount onto his hand. Harry put his feet on the bed, spreading his legs as much as possible and using his feet to push his hips off the mattress. Moments later he felt a slick finger circling his hole, before slowly pushing inside. 

“More,” Harry demanded immediately. He wanted to feel the stretch, the sting of pain at being filled.

Malfoy pulled his finger out, and pushed two back in., fucking Harry slowly on them.

“Fucking hell Malfoy, I’m not a bloody virgin, and I’m not going to break either,” Harry said. He didn’t want this slow and easy thing Malfoy was doing. He wanted to feel every millimetre of cock entering him.

“I want to feel it, really feel it, when you fuck me,” he said, when Malfoy only started scissoring his fingers after Harry’s outburst.

“But it will hurt,” Malfoy said, sounding uncertain. 

“I fucking like it when it hurts Malfoy!” Harry said, breathless as he pushed back on the fingers as much as he could. “Haven’t you heard I’m a sexual deviant or whatever?”

“Promise you’ll tell me to stop, if it’s too much. If any of it is too much,” Malfoy said, and Harry was glad to see not only worry, but also excitement in his face. 

“Promise,” Harry said, meeting Malfoy’s eyes and putting all his sincerity behind the words. 

Harry whined when the fingers were abruptly pulled out of him, but when he saw Malfoy using the hand that had just been inside Harry to slick up his cock the disappointment soon turned to excitement. When Harry tore his eyes from watching Malfoy get lubed up, and saw the expression on the man’s face he nearly came untouched. Something had changed when Harry made that promise, something essential. Malfoy didn’t look nervous anymore, or like he was afraid he’d hurt Harry. He had a new fire in his eyes, and Harry didn’t have better words to describe it than dominant or feral. Malfoy looked like he was done asking, he was going to take what he wanted, and trust Harry to tell him if it wasn’t alright. 

Harry was so distracted by the look on Malfoy’s face he didn’t realize the other man was done with the lube until he felt the head of Malfoy’s cock against his opening. 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, spreading his legs wider. 

When Malfoy started pushing in, Harry’s brain short-circuited. He didn’t think anymore, he just felt, and there was so much to feel. His entire body was on fire, burning even hotter on his hips, where Malfoy was holding him in a hard grip. Malfoy was pushing into him at a steady pace, filling Harry more and more every second. Every time Harry thought he was all the way in, Malfoy kept pushing. Harry threw his head back, trying to get some air between his own gasping. He’d never felt anything like it. The stretch, the stinging pain and the feeling of fullness was almost too much. He’d only ever gotten to this level of fullness by using toys, and toys could not compare to the real thing. It wasn’t even close. After what felt like both seconds and an eternity, Harry finally felt Malfoys hips flush against his own arse, and he had to make an effort not to come. He’d never felt so full, so complete or so fucking desperate. He needed Malfoy to move.

“Fuck, ugh, Merlin, yes, Jesus,” Harry said, knowing it was all nonsense, but unable to say anything more intelligent.

Malfoy seemed to understand him though, because he slowly pulled out before slamming back in. Hard. Harry let out a hoarse shout, wrapping his legs around Malfoy and crossing his ankles, pulling the other man even closer. Malfoy started a raw, unforgiving pace, slamming into Harry over and over. There was no rhythm or finesse as they smashed their hips together, it was all just desperation and need, and it was perfect. Harry felt his orgasm building and building, and he needed to come so badly. He took his hand from where he’d been gripping the sheet, moving it towards his own cock. Just as he was about to close his fist around his aching hardness though, his hand was drawn back. In fact, both his hands were now tied to the headboard of his bed with rope. Fuck, had Malfoy done that wandlessly?

“No,” said Malfoy, leaning closer to Harry’s face. “You’re going to come like this, from my dick ruining your arse.” 

Harry pulled on the ropes, groaning when the roughness of them bit into his wrists. It felt fucking amazing. And not just the sting from the ropes, but the freedom they provided. Harry didn’t have to think about what to do, how to make this feel good for Malfoy or himself. He didn’t have to wonder about his next move, because he couldn’t make one. All he could do was feel as Malfoy fucked him, and it was such a wonderful feeling. Malfoy was fucking Harry so hard and deep he could feel it deep in his belly. Every two or three thrusts he would slam into Harry’s prostate. Harry had never been so desperate to come in his entire life, and he knew Malfoy was right, he could come like this. He would come like this. 

“Fuck, Malfoy, holy shit, yes,” Harry moaned. His whole body was shaking with pleasure and desperation.

“My name,” Malfoy said, pausing to thrust extra hard into Harry, “is Draco.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Draco, fuck, please, I need- aah.”

Harry’s orgasm took him by surprise, shooting through his body in wave after wave. Harry could hear himself moaning and shouting nonsense, but he didn’t even consider being quieter. Malfoy, Draco, was fucking him through his orgasm, and Harry eventually registered that the other man was coming as well. Filling Harry with a wet heat. 

After, Draco collapsed on top of Harry, both of them exhausted. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Draco pulled out and rolled over, making Harry wince both at the soreness and the feeling of being so utterly empty. 

“Shit, sorry,” Draco said, grabbing his wand and releasing Harry’s wrists from the ropes. Harry felt the blood rush back into his hands when they dropped down to the bed. 

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Harry said, trying to sound determined. He found he was far too sated and tired to manage it, so he bet on his sincerity instead. “That was fucking amazing, like, I don’t have words, I’m pretty sure you actually fucked my brains out.”

“Well, I’m glad my cock could satisfy the great Harry Potter then,” Draco said, smirking. 

Harry turned to his side to give Draco a half-hearted shove. Draco ignored him, pointing his wand at himself and performing a cleaning charm. Then he pointed his wand at the sheets to do the same. 

“You want me to clean you up?” Draco asked then, pointing at Harry’s own come covering his belly, and his arse, currently leaking Draco’s come slowly onto the bedsheets. 

“Uhm,” Harry said blushing. How was he supposed to explain that he fucking loved the feeling of having Draco’s come in him, and the sensation as it slowly dripped out. 

“You can do this part,” he said, gesturing to his stomach, “maybe just, wait a little for the rest?” The blood from his softening cock obviously needed somewhere else to go, Harry thought, because all of it was currently relocating itself to his face. 

“Wha-,” Draco said, confused, but stopped himself as a look of realization entered his face “oh.”

Draco’s face managed to look both intrigued, proud, smug and surprised all at once, and Harry had to hide his face in his hands to hide his own embarrassment. 

“You like it, don’t you?” Draco asked, continuing without waiting for a reply. “The feeling of my cum dripping out of your sore arse.”

Harry didn’t dare move his hands from his face, so he just nodded with his hands securely in place. He did like it, he always had, but he’d never actually told anyone before. 

“Savouring the feeling of being used like the slut you are?” Draco asked, and Harry could hear the smirk on his face even if he couldn’t see it. 

Harry had never imagined he would enjoy being called a slut. It had happened before, when people got mad that he didn’t want to date them after sex, or when Ginny said it as a joke, but he’d never really cared then. Hearing it like this from Draco’s mouth was different though. He didn’t say slut as an insult or a joke, he said it with a sort of affection. Harry felt like he was being praised for being needy and desperate, something he’d always been afraid was too much for his partners. When it was said like that, Harry liked it, he liked it a lot.

“Yes,” he whispered, peeking between his fingers just in time to see Draco’s eyes widen.

“Fuck, that’s hot Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry corrected automatically, realizing how he himself had switched from Malfoy to Draco in seconds. It was probably about bloody time, the two of them being the only one in their circle of friends to still use last names for each other.

“Night Harry,” Draco said, hitting his pillow into a more comfortable lump.

“Night Draco.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos.  
Jonathan Carroll_

 

Harry woke up to a pounding headache and a body that felt sore all over. He turned over, only to find the bed next to him empty. Had Draco left already? Harry didn’t have much time to ponder that, as his full bladder was suddenly demanding his attention. Harry got up slowly, stretching out all the sore muscles in his body as he did. Last night had been amazing, he thought. Just feeling the after-effects of it in his body made him want to do it all over again. After finding and putting on some clean pants Harry made his way to the bathroom. He heard banging sounds from the floor below, and the smell of bacon was already making its way up the stairs. So, Draco hadn’t left? What did that mean?

Harry relieved himself, and decided to have a quick shower before heading downstairs to face the, apparently breakfast making, Draco. Cleaning charms never did make him feel properly clean, especially after a night of drinking and fucking. 

Harry let the warm spray of the shower douse over him, warming him from the outside in and doing wonders for his sore muscles. Draco hadn’t left yet; did that mean he wanted to go again? Harry wouldn’t object to that at all. In fact, Harry was pretty sure he would never get tired of being fucked by Draco. Last night had been so intense, and Harry thought that was only skimming the surface of what they could do together. Then again, it was Draco, so he might be staying by some sort of obligation. Maybe he thought he had to make sure that Harry was alright. A thought occurred to Harry then, a thought that would have terrified him the day prior, but somehow didn’t today. What if Draco thought they were dating now?

Harry hadn’t dated anyone since Ginny, and he’d still been a kid at the time. The thought had always terrified him. Growing up, a lot of lives had been dependent on him. Harry hadn’t had a choice but to step up, take the responsibility and carry the lives of half the wizarding world on his shoulders. And he had failed. Yes, he’d killed Voldemort eventually, but all the people who hadn’t survived the war could have if only Harry had done better. He’d told his friends he didn’t like commitment, that he didn’t want to be tied down to a person, but really, Harry was just terrified he’d end up hurting someone with his inadequacy again. These days, Harry was barely able to carry the weight of himself, let alone another person. It was different with Draco though. Harry had never met another person so capable of taking care of themselves, of surviving. Draco didn’t want or need Harry to save him, to carry him, he was doing so all by himself already. 

Harry reached for the shampoo, deciding that it was about to be a rather long shower after all. So, he wasn’t terrified of dating Draco, but it was scary. Draco could decide he didn’t like Harry very much after all. They could end up fighting just like they had at Hogwarts, or they could fall in love and then break each other’s hearts. There were risks, Harry thought, but then he remembered the previous night. And not just the earth-shattering sex that he could see the proof of in the bruises littering his skin and the redness of his wrists. Harry had felt free for the first time he could remember, like he didn’t have to think and plan and consider his every move. So maybe Ginny had been right, maybe freedom and responsibility weren’t opposites.

Right, Harry thought, deciding not to dwell on the matter anymore. I’m going to date Draco Malfoy. Merlin save us all when it goes to shit. 

Harry got out of the shower and grabbed his discarded pants, then he went hunting for a t-shirt to wear before facing Draco and his breakfast making.

* * *

“Morning, sleepy head,” Draco said as Harry entered the kitchen. 

He was standing with his back to Harry, hands busy frying eggs. The kitchen table was already brimming with toast, bacon, pancakes, fruit and a number of things Harry hadn’t known he had in the house. Of course, the sod was completely dressed, only missing his shoes. Harry felt naked, standing there in his pants and a t-shirt. 

“Are you always this bright and shiny in the mornings?” Harry wondered out loud, sitting down and pouring himself a glass of juice. He’d never been much of a coffee person. 

“I’m sure the spectacular sex last night didn’t hurt my mood,” Draco said.

He turned from the eggs to smirk at Harry, and Harry found himself blushing again. When Draco turned back, Harry shook his head. He was not some blushing virgin, for fucks sake. 

“Let’s take it as a sign we’ll have spectacular sex this year then,” Harry said. With Draco’s back turned nothing was stopping Harry from studying Draco’s arse in detail. It really was a very nice backside, managing to look both round and firm at the same time. 

Draco turned around to set the eggs on the table before sitting down himself. 

“I might have gone a bit overboard,” he said, looking at the table as if he’d only just realized how much food was on it. “I started making food, and then I didn’t really stop until you came down here.”

“Well,” said Harry, munching on some bacon. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“This is true Harry,” said Draco, and Harry felt a weird sense of relief that Draco wasn’t back to using his last name again. 

After a short silence Draco looked up from the piece of toast he was buttering, looking half nervous. 

“You do realize everyone at the party from last night probably knows we left to fuck, right?”

Harry laughed, because Draco looked like he was actually concerned this idea hadn’t occurred to Harry. 

“Yeah, I figured as much when we all but ran away, leaving behind a ruffled-up sofa,” Harry grinned. 

 

Breakfast with Draco was so easy, Harry found himself surprised by it on several occasions. Sure, he and Draco had been civil for the last few years, but now they were acting full-on friendly. They laughed at Ron and Blaise’s silent war on how to dress, discussed how Teddy was doing at school and argued a bit over Quidditch. Not once did Harry find himself needing to fill an awkward silence, or push away anger. 

“You’re back to work tomorrow, right? Harry asked after they’d finished breakfast. 

“Yeah,” said Draco, “honestly it’s a crime. There should be at least a week to recover from New Year’s Eve before the ministry decides to ruin the year by making us do pointless and boring work.”

Harry sympathized, he knew too well that between every task that was actually useful, ministry employees had to perform at least two useless ones. It had driven him mental when he was in auror training. 

“How about we meet up for lunch?” Harry asked, deciding to just jump in head first. “Break up the monotony of the day and all that.”

“Yes, we should do that,” Draco smiled, “It’s about bloody time we stopped it with this irrational animosity I think.”

* * *

Harry didn’t know what to expect when he entered the ministry for the first time in years, to go on a date, also for the first time in years. He had no clue where Draco worked, but they’d arranged to meet by the entrance. Harry hoped this would save him from a lot of stares, as well as a random search for whatever office it was Draco was working in. As he waited for Draco, Harry figured he should probably just ask. People usually asked questions about jobs on dates, right?

“Harry!” Draco said, tapping Harry on the back. “Found you.”

“Hi,” Harry said, grinning at his date. “Where do you want to eat?”

“I’m craving pizza actually, as I’m currently in the process of suppressing the fact that the holidays have ended, and this is in fact, a regular weekday,” said Draco, making Harry smile. 

“Pizza it is,” Harry agreed.

“There’s a great muggle place not far from here,” Draco stage whispered, “but if you tell anyone at the ministry about it I’ll have to kill you. It’s my sanctuary.”

“A secret pizza sanctuary?” Harry questioned, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” Draco said, “they have pasta as well.” 

Draco’s secret pizza sanctuary was actually really nice, Harry decided. It was close enough to the ministry that they could walk, but in a side street with few people. The restaurant itself was mainly made up of booths, so every customer would have their privacy even if it was full. It wasn’t now though, Harry noticed, it actually looked like they were the only ones here. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and led him to one of the booths near the back without waiting to be shown their seats. A waiter appeared moments later. 

“Hi Draco, what are you up for today? the man asked, making Harry wonder how long Draco had been coming here. 

“Jake, how can you even ask on a day like today?” Draco said dramatically, gesturing to the room. “It is obviously a day for pizza.”

“And what pizza would the gentleman like today?” Jake asked, giving a fake little bow.

“Oh, I’m not picky,” said Draco, “surprise me.”

Jake turned to Harry, and was about to ask his order when Draco interrupted. 

“Only, if you put pineapple on it, I’ll strangle you.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. 

“And corn, corn does not belong on pizza Jake.”

“I’m well aware,” Jake said. Then he grinned at Harry, and showed him four fingers. Hiding them behind the menu so Draco wouldn’t see. 

“What would you like?” Jake asked Harry.

“Actually, I’ll take number four,” Draco interrupted, “the one with rocket and prosciutto.”

Harry snorted, trying to hide it in his hand. Jake seemed unfazed, still waiting for Harry’s order. 

“That actually sounds really good,” Harry said, “I’ll have a number four as well.”

Jake filled their water glasses and left for the kitchen, leaving Harry and Draco alone. Harry studied Draco’s appearance, he looked so different in his proper work robes, with his proper work hair. Harry had to suppress the urge to reach out and mess it up. He liked Draco when he was messy. 

“Don’t mind Jake,” Draco said, “I’ve been coming here for too long I suppose, so he thinks it’s alright to tease me.”

“As if you don’t like it,” Harry said, smirking at Draco because it was so obvious the man did. Harry supposed most people didn’t dare use such a casual, bantering, tone with Draco. Either afraid of the respected ministry official or angry at the ex-death eater. 

Again, conversation flowed easily between the two men. Draco told Harry where he worked, and Harry forgot all about it by the time the pizza arrived. Part of Harry figured they must have let go of their dislike for each other a long time ago, because people didn’t go from school enemies to friends this fast. 

“Holy fuck,” Harry exclaimed, laying down his knife and fork, “that was the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

“I know, right?” Draco said, looking ridiculously proud at having shown Harry such amazing food. 

Harry wanted to kiss the smug grin off his stupid face, and he didn’t really see a reason why he shouldn’t. The restaurant was still empty, except for an elderly couple who wouldn’t see them from their own booth. Harry stood up from his side of the table, and sat next to Draco on the couch he was sitting on. He leaned in slowly, giving Draco the chance to call him off. Draco didn’t, instead he leaned in the final few inches, grabbing Harry’s hair and kissing him hard. Harry wanted more immediately, and he moved as close as he could without actually getting in Draco’s lap. 

“Hang on,” Draco said, pulling away. He threw a handful of notes onto the table, grabbed Harry, and apparated them both. 

“Doing magic in muggle restaurants now, are we?” Harry questioned, still out of breath from the kiss and sudden apparition. 

“Fuck yes I am,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hair again and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Harry was too distracted by the hardening of his own cock to look around the unfamiliar living room he found himself in. Draco must have taken him home. Harry decided he could see the place later, and grabbed onto Draco’s perfect arse, pulling him in closer. The groan that elicited from Draco was absolutely delicious, inspiring Harry to reach under Draco’s robes and start opening the button on his jeans.

“Fuck yes,” Draco said,flinging off his robes. His hands reached for Harry’s trousers. “I have to be back at work soon, but I’ve wanted this since I saw you in the ministry.”

“Quick and dirty then,” Harry suggested. 

He finished opening Draco’s jeans and pulled them down along with his pants, just as Draco did the same with his. Draco grabbed Harry’s cock, trying to align it with his own and wank them off at the same time. Harry was too short though, making the task impossible.

“Fuck it,” Draco said. He grabbed Harry and spun him around, pushing him down until Harry was bent over the couch. 

Harry spread his legs, really hoping that Draco was going to fuck him again. His position seemed to indicate as much, and the thought made his cock jump. Harry could hear Draco casting the lubrication spell, and soon after he pushed three slick fingers into Harry arse without warning. Harry bit his bottom lip to quiet the moan, pushing back on the fingers. 

“Fuck you’re so hot like this,” Draco said.

He pulled his fingers out and cast the lubrication spell on them again, before pushing them back into Harry’s already wet hole. He fucked Harry with his fingers for a while before Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” he said, a note of desperation in his voice. Draco’s fingers left him again, and Harry heard the lubrication charm for the third time. He was expecting the feel of Draco’s thick cock against his entrance, so he gasped with pleasure and surprise as Draco’s warm, wet hand closed around his cock. Draco slowly stroked Harry as he pushed himself in at a slow pace, letting Harry adjust. When Draco was flush against Harry he moved both his hands to grab Harry’s hips. 

“Touch yourself,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry reached down between his legs, closing his hand around his hardness. As soon as he’d done so Draco started pounding into him. Harry pushed back as much as he could, but with one hand on his dick, he only had one left to steady himself against the sofa he was bent over. Draco’s words echoed in Harry’s head, and he started moving his hand on his cock to match Draco’s thrusts. Harry knew he wouldn’t last long, the sensations were so intense he could hardly breathe. 

“Your arse,” Draco said, pausing to slam into Harry again “is bloody perfect.”

Harry wanted to reply, he really did, but all he managed were nonsense words like fuck, yes, please and Draco. Something about Draco sent him into a place where the only thing that mattered was lust, need and feeling. 

“So good... fuck... need you,” he managed, moaning and gasping between each word. 

Draco was the first to orgasm, he slammed into Harry one final time, his dick releasing pulses of warm come into Harry. Then Draco grabbed Harry’s cock, working it fast and hard until Harry came all over Draco’s expensive looking sofa. 

“Fuck,” Harry moaned as Draco let go of his cock and hip before pulling out. Harry sank down to the floor, too sated to be bothered moving to the right side of the sofa. Besides, he didn’t think Draco would appreciate it getting more stained than it already was. 

“Yeah,” Draco said, sitting down beside Harry and leaning against the back of the ruined sofa. The look of alarm on his face as he studied the stain there made Harry burst out laughing. 

“Sorry about your sofa,” he said, sounding nothing close to sincere. 

“It’s Pansy’s sofa, actually,” Draco said, sounding as horrified and embarrassed as he looked. 

This only made Harry laugh even harder, “why the fuck do you even have Pansy’s sofa?” 

“We’re flatmates,” Draco said, as if Harry should have known this. Harry probably should have if he was honest. 

“Scourgify,” Draco said, pointing his wand at the white stain on the velvet green sofa. And well, the spell had some effect. It made the stain look more like it was weeks old, rather than minutes. Draco groaned. “How am I to explain this to her?”

Harry didn’t have an answer to that, being too busy laughing. 

“Stop laughing, you’re impossible,” Draco said, but he too was smiling. “Actually, I imagine she’ll be rather pleased that I’m having marvellous sex.”

“Even if it’s on her sofa?” Harry asked, sniggering. 

“Well, no, probably not,” Draco agreed. “I know how we can make it up to her though, I’ve been meaning to ask you about it actually.”

“I will gladly answer your questions,” Harry said, mock serious, “as soon as my naked arse isn’t freezing on the cold floor.”

It didn’t take them too long to get cleaned and dressed. They managed to make the living room look presentable by hanging a blanket over the back of the couch to hide the stain. Harry even had time to look around the flat a bit, and he decided it must have been just Pansy living here until Draco and Canada had broken it off. It was a nice place, but it didn’t look like Draco was actually living there, at least not judging by the pictures and books in the living room. Harry eyed the clock on the wall, realizing Draco’s 40-minute lunch break had already lasted for 2 hours. Harry wasn’t about to mention this to Draco though, as he didn’t particularly want Draco to leave. 

Harry dropped down on the sofa, in the now tidy room, watching as Draco attempted to make his hair look all work proper again. “So,” he said, “you wanted to ask something?”

“Yes,” said Draco, abandoning his hair to sit next to Harry. “You do mostly volunteer work now, right? After you quit the auror program?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, unsure where this was going.

“Well, see, there is this idea Pansy and I have been playing with for a while. A charity organization of sorts,” Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck. The nervous look he had now was so different from the determined one he’d had before. Harry took that to mean this was important to Draco.

“You know how there were lots of orphans after the war, like Teddy. And a lot of them live with grandparents, foster parents or in the orphanages the ministry created. And they can’t really afford to go on holidays, or their guardians don’t have the desire or capability to make sure they get one,” Draco paused, looking at Harry as if to gauge his reaction. 

“Like when Teddy wanted to go swimming this summer, so Andromeda asked me to take him because she can’t use her cane on the beach?” Harry asked, not having thought about how this could be a problem for other children as well. What if he hadn’t been there to take Teddy to the beach. Who would have taught him how to swim? Who would run around playing with him, teach him to fly a broom? Harry knew Andromeda wanted those things for Teddy, but she wasn’t able to provide it on her own.

“Exactly,” Draco said. “Well, I don’t know if you heard, but this Christmas was the last time Hogwarts was open for students during the school holidays. They’re staying closed for Easter, and -.”

“What?” Harry interrupted. The option to stay at Hogwarts had been so important to him as a child. If it hadn’t been for that, and Ron inviting him to stay at the Burrow, all Harry’s Christmas and Easter hols would have been just as miserable as his Summer ones. 

“I know,” Draco said, reading Harry’s expression. “It’s just making the situation worse for all the kids who don’t have a place to go. Or a good one at least. So, Pansy and I started looking into different ways of solving the problem.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry said.

“Yes, well, there isn’t much we can do really. We did look into the muggle system, how they have their own department to protect children from their caretakers and parents, and to help out the families that need it. But I don’t, or, we don’t think anything like that would be viable yet.”

Harry grimaced, it was a good idea, and he’d really have liked it if child protective services had shown up when he was living with the Dursleys. Draco was right though, pitching a plan like that to the wizarding society would have people panicking in the streets, shouting about the ministry kidnapping their children. 

“So you know, we thought we’d start simple,” Draco continued. “We want to make a charity that offers a holiday home for children whose family can’t or won’t care for them. We wouldn’t really have marketed it like that, of course, but that’s essentially what it would be.”

Harry found himself wanting to kiss Draco again, so he did. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he breathed, pulling away.

“Yes, well the thing I wanted to ask is, we, er, would need some help,” Draco said, in a nervous rush. “Only, we’d need funding and donations, and nobody really wants to donate to an organization run by an ex-death eater. I’m sure they wouldn’t send their kids to us either, and that’s a problem too, because I’m absolutely horrible with children. And I know you’re really good with them. Pansy and I both plan on donating some of our families’ estates and fortunes, but well, we could really use your help.”

Harry had considered being angry for a second, that Draco wanted to use his hero status. But he found he didn’t really have it in him once Draco had explained what he wanted to use it for, and it was mostly what all the charities he did work for wanted from him anyways. Besides, Draco had said he wanted help with the kids as well, and Harry thought spending the school holidays leading a summer camp for children sounded amazing. He could even bring Teddy, and the boy would have people his own age to play with. 

“I’m in” Harry said, grinning at Draco. His smile widened as he realized that not only would this give him a chance to do something important, it would also be a wonderful excuse to spend more time with Draco.


	3. Chapter 3

_Breakin' down and comin' undone_  
It's a roller-coaster kinda rush  
And I never knew I could feel that much  
And that's the way I loved you  
Taylor Swift 

Harry and Draco managed to keep their dating a secret from the papers for an entire month. When the owl landed on Ron and Hermione’s kitchen table the first Saturday of February sporting the headline ‘Opposites Attract?!’ Harry wasn’t even surprised. He supposed he should count himself lucky they’d only managed a picture of them snogging, as Harry was pretty sure he’d ended up giving Draco a blowjob in the very alley the picture had been taken. In his defence, they had both been kinda drunk, and very much exhausted from spending the day trying to put together their new charity. 

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding half amused half horrified. “Are you still shagging Draco Malfoy? I mean, I know something happened on New Year’s Eve, but I mean, it is Malfoy.”

“Oh come off it Ron” Hermione said, “just because Draco is, er, whatever he is with Harry, doesn’t mean you have to regress back to calling him Malfoy.”

“Well, he’s Draco to me,” Ron clarified “But he’s Malfoy to Harry, isn’t he?”

“It would be a bit weird to call the bloke I’m dating by his last name,” Harry said, grinning at his friends. 

He’d held off on telling them about him and Draco, at first because it was so new, and then because he wanted to see if it would work out first. He knew Hermione desperately wanted to see him in a relationship, and he didn’t want to tell her if he was about to cock it all up, but to his surprise, Harry hadn’t. He’d been afraid he’d choke on the commitment and responsibility of it all, but he’d found that amazingly he didn’t feel that way at all. He felt free and happy, and like maybe he’d been avoiding relationships because of an entirely irrational fear. Harry really, really liked Draco, and he liked being with Draco. It dawned on Harry that since their first date, it hadn’t occurred to him to break things off even once. 

“Oh my god!” Hermione said, “you’re dating?” She was on her feet, hugging Harry before she had a reply. Harry thought she actually looked a little teary eyed, so he turned to Ron for help.

“You’re like, monogamous dating?” Ron asked, disbelief written on his face.

“Yeah,” Harry said, shrugging. “I might have changed my mind about the whole monogamy being restricting thing.”

“So, you’re not like, dating Draco, and fucking other people too?” 

“Ron, just because I told you once that monogamy wasn’t my thing, it doesn’t mean that I’m a sex crazed lunatic,” Harry said, laughing. 

Of course, being with Draco had pretty much turned Harry into a sex crazed lunatic, but that was a new development. Having a sex life that only consisted of one night stands for the past six years had really limited the amount of sex Harry had been having. He’d never really liked the whole going to bars to pick people up, so it wasn’t like a thing he had been doing weekly. 

“So, you’re trying to tell me you don’t usually fuck around with strangers?” Ron asked, and Harry suspected he was in for a discussion he would lose. Ron had that look on his face he usually got a few moves before a check-mate. 

“Well, of course I’ve fucked strangers,” Harry said, as this was fairly obvious. Both the paper and his friends liked to mention it every so often. “But that doesn’t mean I’m sex-crazed.”

“How many sex partners have you had then?” Ron asked, apparently not at all fazed with how inappropriate the question was. Harry regretted turning to him for help in the first place, deciding he’d much rather have a teary-eyed Hermione hugging him again.

“I don’t know,” he said defensively, turning to Hermione who was eying him thoughtfully. 

“Just answer Harry,” she said, “I want to see where he’s going with this.”

“Fine. I don’t know. I used to hook up with someone maybe once every month or so? So, since Ginny I guess like, maybe, er, somewhere around 60 or 70.” As Harry said it, he realised it was a rather large number, especially as he figured it was actually closer to 80, not that he was about to tell Ron. 

“See,” Ron said, “sex-crazed”. 

“Oh, whatever,” Harry said, “what does that even matter? I’m with Draco now.”

Hermione smiled warmly at him. “That’s wonderful, I’d always hoped you’d get to experience something like that.”

Ron snorted, face buried in the morning paper. “Playboy Potter was caught snogging none other than the reformed Draco Malfoy, son of death eater Lucius Malfoy. Has someone finally managed to lure Harry into the realm of steady dating, or was this simply another one-off for our hero? Read more on pages 6, 7 and 8,” Ron read. 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Harry said, groaning. “Playboy Potter? Really?”

Harry pulled the paper from Ron’s hands, skimming over the pages. They didn’t have too much to go on apparently, apart from rumours that Harry had been seen working late nights at various cafés with Draco and Pansy. He was worried about how Draco would react to the whole thing though. Both the paper and the whole, playboy, thing. What if it bothered Draco that Harry had been with so many people before him? 

His worry must have shown on his face, because Ron placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Draco won’t mind the paper,” he said, “he has to realize that comes with the package of dating you. Especially considering the family he’s from.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “still doesn’t mean he’ll like it. I sure as fuck don’t.” Harry rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep he’d gotten that night. “And I mean, what if he minds the whole ‘playboy’ thing? We haven’t really talked much about previous partners or anything.”

“It couldn’t come as a surprise though,” Hermione said, “I mean, it’s fairly common knowledge that you’ve been, well, er-.“

“Sleeping around?” Harry offered. “I know, but you both seemed surprised by the number. I never really thought about it before, but I guess it is kind of a lot.”

Ron looked pained, making Harry even more worried. There was apparently real cause for worry here. Fuck, what if Draco didn’t want him anymore?

“Harry,” Hermione said, pulling Harry from his thoughts. “I really think you should talk to Draco about this, if you’re worried.”

“Maybe it’s best to just - not?” Harry asked. What Draco didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them right?

“Yeah mate, if you’d like to worry about this constantly that’s a great way to go,” Ron said. Harry saw the eye roll, even though Ron had actually refrained from doing so.

Harry actually managed to enjoy the rest of the morning with his friends, once he’d agreed to talk to Draco. He stayed through lunch, deciding not to think about how he was meeting Draco for dinner. It would be fine. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. On his way home Harry stopped by the shop to buy ingredients for dinner. If he was having this conversation they would both need pizza. Pizza and wine, he decided, adding a couple of bottles to his basket. 

“The pizza was delicious,” Draco said, pulling out his wand to send the empty plate flying to the kitchen. 

Harry did the same, silently wondering if he should talk to Draco after they’d finished the second bottle of wine, or if they’d need it more after. 

“So, why did you bribe me with pizza?” Draco asked, smirking at Harry from his side of the sofa. 

“I didn’t,” Harry said, trying for innocence. 

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, “yeah, you did. You only feed me pizza when we’re celebrating things going well with the camp, or when you have bad news about our plans going to shit.”

“Maybe we’re celebrating then,” Harry said, deciding that it was definitely time to open that second bottle. He cast a summoning charm, and busied himself pouring both glasses. “I was thinking about the paper today actually.”

“That was atrocious,” Draco said, laughing. “Pansy actually fell off her chair laughing about it.”

“So, you don’t mind?” Harry asked, clutching his wineglass like a lifeline. 

“I’ve gotten used to the Prophet being twats, really. They’ve been at it for so long now,” Draco said, still laughing. “Opposites attract indeed.”

“Not even the playboy thing?” Harry asked, dreading the answer. Maybe if he just downed his whole glass at once he could forget all about the Prophet, it was worth a try either way, he decided. 

“Playboy Potter,” Draco said, in the same tone of voice he’d use to call Harry ‘the Saviour’. 

Harry poured himself another glass. “I mean, it’s kinda true, you know?” he said, staring at his glass to avoid looking at Draco, who’d stopped laughing. “It’s just, well, I’ve been with a lot of people.”

“I don’t mind,” Draco said, placing a hand on Harry’s knee. Harry looked at the hand, slowly following it up to Draco’s face. He looked sincere, but then again, he didn’t really know what Harry had meant by ‘a lot’ did he?

“You say that now,” Harry said, “but, I don’t know, maybe you’ll change your mind if you know the actual number.” Harry did consider saying it, just throwing it out there, but maybe Draco didn’t want to know. 

“How many is it then?” Draco asked, crushing Harry’s hope that he wouldn’t actually have to say it. How was it that he’d spent years just, not thinking about it, figuring it was fine, only to be so worried about it now. Harry didn’t want to be worried about it, he didn’t want to feel ashamed. He never had before. 

“20?” Draco asked. He paused and raised his eyebrows, “30?”

Harry did feel ashamed then, despite his best effort. He knew, technically, that there wasn’t anything wrong any number of sexual partners. Charlie hadn’t had any, being asexual, and Harry was pretty sure Bill’s number had been up there with Harry’s when he met Fleur. What made him feel ashamed wasn’t logic or his friends or the bloody paper. It was Draco, a man Harry was sure could count his sexual partners on one hand. A man who thought thirty was exaggerating. Harry had to tell him, he had to, because Ron was right. He’d worry constantly if he didn’t.

“I wasn’t really counting,” Harry said, figuring he should just rip off the band aid. “But I’m pretty sure it’s like, er, 70 or 80, maybe.” It took effort, not to make the last part inaudible by mumbling, but he’d managed it. Harry downed his glass of wine again, and emptied the wine bottle to refill it. Harry looked at the traitorous bottle. He should have bought more wine. 

“Ok,” Draco said, finally taking a sip of his own glass.

“Ok?” Harry asked, irritated. That was all Draco had to say? What did that even mean?

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a lot of people, but I don’t really mind,” Draco said, smiling now. Harry realised, relieved, that his hand was still securely placed on Harry’s knee. 

“I’ve had all the charms done, of course,” Harry blurted, suddenly feeling rushed to reassure Draco he wasn’t a diseased slut at least, just a regular one. 

“I know,” Draco said, laughing. “Madam Pomfrey gave me mine at the same time, remember?”

Harry didn’t remember, he’d been too busy being awkward about the fact that Ron had been there as well. They had both made tremendous effort not to think about the fact that they were getting charms that would allow them to have sex with Hermione and Ginny without worrying about sexual diseases. Harry hadn’t wanted to think about Ron and Hermione, and he was sure Ron hadn’t wanted to think about Harry and his sister. 

“So, were ok?” Harry asked, needing to be sure. 

“Yeah, we’re ok,” Draco said, “besides, you’re my slut now, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah I am,” Harry smirked wickedly. He slid down to the floor, getting between Draco’s legs. He was about to give his boyfriend the blowjob he’d been thinking about since he saw that bloody picture in the paper.

* * *

They had a meeting with Pansy early the next morning. Way too early for Harry’s tastes, but he’d been cursed to work with two morning people. 

“Good news,” Pansy said, as Harry and Draco entered her flat. Although, Harry supposed, it was Draco’s flat now too. 

“What?” Draco asked. He rushed over to his friend, and snatched an envelope from her fingers.

“Draco darling, patience,” she said, smacking his head, “we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, yes,” Draco said, not at all paying attention as he was reading the letter.

“We got the ministry funding?” he asked, staring at Pansy in shock.

Harry grinned, “we did? That’s awesome!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, of course we’d get it with your name on as one of the organisations founders,” Pansy said. Harry didn’t think she really was as annoyed as she sounded, judging by the grin on her face.

“You do realise it might have something to do with the fact that it’s a bloody good idea, right?” He asked her, “Not to mention the hours of work we put into the fucking application.”

“Yes, that too, of course” she said. 

They really had worked very hard on the application. It was a much longer, and more complicated process than Harry had imagined. First their organisation had to be founded, and approved by ministry officials as a genuine charity. Then they had to actually make Second Home, or SC, into an actual organisation. There had been a lot of paperwork, so much it had made Harry’s head spin. The worst part of it, for Harry, had been that it had all been theoretical. They had to account for the number of employees and volunteers they would need per child, without even knowing how many children would attend the bloody camp. Or how many people would even want to volunteer to work there. 

“Does this mean we can finally start planning for the Easter holiday then?” Harry asked, hopeful they’d at last be doing something he would be able to understand. 

“We did it,” Draco said instead of answering. He’d finally looked up from the letter, and he was positively shining with joy.

“We did,” Pansy said, grabbing Draco’s hands. “We really, really did.”

She looked at Harry. “All of us,” she added, making Harry feel like he was part of something big. Something important. 

They stayed up late planning for the Easter Holiday. They had to plan out things like location, basic activities and routines before they’d be able to send out the application forms to the Hogwarts students. They wanted to open it up to younger kids eventually, but Draco argued that they had to start simple. They sent out notices to the Prophet and Witch Weekly, asking for volunteers and employees that same night. Harry was worried there wouldn’t be enough people interested. Their whole plan was now dependent on getting responsible adults who could stay at the camp with the kids. Without that, they’d only be able to allow 6 kids to enter the camp, because Harry, Draco and Pansy would be the only ones there. 

“If I have to spend another minute planning this I think I might actually off myself,” Harry said, after they had worked through both lunch and dinner. 

Pansy yawned. “There isn’t much more to plan anyway,” she said, “we’ll just finish tomorrow evening.”

“Sounds perfect,” Draco said, “I’m knackered, honestly.” 

Pansy excused herself for bed, giving Harry an opportunity to kiss Draco. A kiss that escalated rather quickly, until they were both panting for breath. 

“I want you,” Harry whispered, hoping Draco would take him to bed already.

Draco grabbed his hand, pulling Harry up the stairs, as if Harry didn’t know perfectly well how to find the bedroom. As soon as they were in the privacy of Draco’s room Draco pushed Harry against the door, kissing him fiercely. Harry kissed back, trying to give as good as he got, moaning into the heated kiss. Draco broke off, leaning down and attaching his lips to Harry’s neck. He started off sucking and licking softly, then he suddenly bit down hard, making Harry jerk.

“Fuck,” Harry said, “do that again.”

Draco did, and Harry’s body burned with desire. The bite was deliciously painful, but what really did it for Harry was that he was being marked. Anyone who saw his neck tomorrow would know who he belonged to. That he was Draco’s.

“Please,” Harry moaned, after the tension was too much. He already needed more, always more. 

Draco let go of Harry and took a step back. He was panting, pupils dilated and the sight had never failed to make Harry want him desperately. “Get naked,” Draco demanded, starting on his own clothes. 

Harry obliged immediately, eager for what was to follow. He was naked and on the bed just as Draco finished stepping out of his pants. Harry was already out of his mind with desire, and he wondered if this was the time to mention his fantasy to Draco. He’d wanted to for a while, but he was still a bit embarrassed about it. Deciding actions might be easier than words, Harry leapt off the bed, fetching his belt from the floor. 

He climbed back onto the bed without looking at Draco, laying down on his stomach. Shyly he handed the belt to the other man, who gave him a quizzical look. Harry didn’t want to explain, feeling that saying it would feel too awkward. He might have a lot of experience with sex, but he’d never done anything like this before. It had always just been quick and dirty, no time for fantasies. Harry bit his bottom lip, feeling his face turn red. He pushed the belt into Draco’s hand, then turned his face away and lifted his arse off the bed. 

“You want me to -,” Draco said, with a note in his voice Harry hoped was awe, not disgusted shock “you want to be spanked?” 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, hoping he hadn’t freaked Draco out. 

“Fuck,” Draco breathed, “tell me if it’s too hard.”

The smack of the belt hitting Harry’s arse filled the room moments later, making Harry cry out. Fuck, it _hurt_ , but it was so good. Harry realised he’d instinctively flinched away when the belt hit him, so he bent his knees a bit to lift his hips again, hoping Draco would take the hint. Draco did, bringing the belt down on Harry’s arse again and again. Harry was panting, his arse on fire. He wondered if he would actually be able to come like this, because with every stroke he felt himself getting closer. Every once in a while, Draco would put the belt down to rub Harry’s heated cheeks. The show of affection between the sharp pain of the belt felt amazing. 

“Do you have any idea how hot you look like this,” Draco asked, “moaning and begging for me to spank you?” Harry was too busy trying to rub his cock against the sheets and push his arse closer to Draco to respond. 

“You’re so desperate for it, fuck,” Draco said, “turn over.”

Harry did so without thinking, his entire world was Draco. He’d follow him to the end of the fucking world as long as Draco didn’t stop making him feel like this. 

Draco leaned down to bite Harry’s nipple, “Mmh, so obedient,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” Harry said, “please. Draco, please.”

Draco grabbed the lube that was still sitting on top of his bedside table from the last time they’d fucked, coating himself generously. 

“You want prep?” he asked Harry, and fuck he looked hot like that. Kneeling between Harry’s legs, stroking himself. 

“No,” said Harry. He was loose enough from the previous night, and now that the spanking had stopped he wanted more. More sensation, pleasure and pain all mixed up until he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. 

Draco grabbed Harry’s ankles, placing them on his shoulders. Harry grabbed onto the sheets, almost moaning with the anticipation of being fucked. Draco pushed into him in one hard thrust, making Harry gasp for air. It was perfect, too much and not enough all at once. Draco set up an unforgiving pace, and this position let him hit Harry’s prostate with almost every thrust. Harry was rapidly approaching his orgasm, moaning as he desperately pushed back on Draco’s cock. Draco leaned forward, making Harry’s ankles slide off his shoulders. Harry bent his knees to allow Draco to lean even closer to him, so Draco lifted his arms off the bed, letting Harry wrap his legs around Draco’s waist. Draco didn’t put both hands back on the bed though, instead he wrapped one around Harry’s throat and squeezed. 

For a second Harry was scared, he could feel the blood-flow to his head being restricted, and a pressure was slowly building in his head. The feeling of terror didn’t last more than a couple of seconds however, as Harry realised he trusted Draco. He could still breathe, if not much, but the feeling of a hand around his throat was amazing. Harry didn’t know if it was the pain, loss of control or just the intense sensation it provided, but he knew he fucking loved it. Draco tightened his grip, making it harder for Harry to breathe. Just as Harry began seeing spots, Draco released his grip, letting blood rush back into Harry’s head.

The resulting burst of pleasure caused Harry to come with a hoarse shout, gasping for air. Draco wasn’t far behind, as he continued fucking them through both their orgasms. 

“Holy fuck that was amazing,” Harry said, swiping his sweating brow and unwrapping his legs so Draco could pull out and lie down next to him. 

“Definitely,” Draco said. 

Harry gestured to his throat. “I didn’t even know I was into that,” he said. 

“Me neither,” said Draco, lips pursed thoughtfully, “we should definitely do it again though, just to be positively sure we liked it.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, sounds like a good plan.”


	4. Chapter 4

_And all our pieces fall  
Right into place  
Get caught up in a moment  
I'm yours to keep  
And I'm yours to lose  
-Taylor Swift_

February quickly turned to a flurry of planning for the upcoming Easter Camp. Harry cursed the fact that this year would have the earliest Easter in years, starting as early as March. They’d received a surprising amount of applications from Hogwarts students and their parents. As they had expected, most of the kids had applied without their parents or guardians knowledge, so Harry had taken on the job of traveling around with the acceptance letters and permission forms to said guardians. He figured if someone actually showed up to explain the concept, they’d be more inclined to let their kids go. It wasn’t an easy job, Harry thought, knocking on the third door that day.

The woman who opened the door didn’t look well, not at all. Harry could smell the alcohol on her, and the bags underneath her eyes indicated that she hadn’t slept a good night in ages. “What do you want?” she said sharply, then, noticing Harry’s face, suddenly appeared nervous. 

“Hello Mrs. Bloomtwig,” Harry said, having checked her name before knocking. “I’m here with some good news, would you mind letting me in so we can talk?” Harry wasn’t sure he really wanted to enter the house, wondering at its state. If the woman in front of him was any indication, it would be a mess.

“Sure, Mr. Potter. Come in,” Mrs. Bloomtwig said, but she failed to step aside to let Harry enter. 

“Harry, please,” Harry said automatically, turning sideways to get through the door. 

The house wasn’t as much of a mess as Harry had suspected. Sure, the sofa-table was littered with bottles in varying states of empty, but other than that the place looked in order. It looked as if Mrs. Bloomtwig put more effort into her house than she did herself, Harry thought sadly. 

“Would you like a drink?” Mrs. Bloomtwig asked him, already pouring a glass for herself. 

Harry knew there was probably something wrong with sharing a drink with someone who was clearly an alcoholic, but he couldn’t really think of a solid reason. “Sure, whisky if you have some,” he said, deciding that refusing her would probably be rude. 

The frail-looking woman drained her own drink, before pouring two more and handing one to Harry. “So,” she said, “you said you have news?”

“Yes,” Harry said, glad for the opening. “As you may have heard, myself and a couple of friends have started a new organisation. We all really appreciated spending our holidays at Hogwarts, surrounded by friends our own age. When we heard the school was no longer going to be providing that option, we wanted to make sure everyone had an alternative.”

The story of how Second Home had come to be wasn’t exactly true, but Harry found it was accepted a lot better than the truth that ‘we don’t think everyone is fit to care for their children, so we thought we’d help’. Mrs. Bloomtwig didn’t say anything, just fixed Harry with a stare, so he continued. 

“We created Second Home Camps. And this Easter we’re hosting our first one,” Harry said, smiling at the sad woman in front of him. “Your daughter, Aloisia -.”

“Lola,” Mrs. Bloomtwig interrupted him. “She goes by Lola.”

“Lola,” Harry amended, “applied to attend the camp, and I’m happy to say she’s been accepted. I’m here to answer any questions you might have, and get the paperwork in order.”

Mrs. Bloomtwig sighed, and Harry suddenly felt strange referring to her like that. He’d read up on their family before coming here. Mr. Bloomtwig had been murdered during the war, after simply being at the wrong place in the wrong time and running into a pair of wannabe death eaters. 

“She doesn’t want to be home for Easter then,” said Mrs. Bloomtwig. Managing to look both sad and relieved at that. “I can’t blame her really, after this Christmas.”

Harry wanted to ask what had happened, but he bit his tongue, knowing it really wasn’t his business. He drank down the rest of his whisky instead. 

“Lola doesn’t remember much of her father,” Mrs. Bloomtwig said, “but I can’t seem to forget. He was the love of my life, and then he was just – gone.” She took Harry’s glass from him, moving to refill their drinks. “I haven’t been coping too well, and as you can see, this winter I’ve started drinking again.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, two months ago he would have judged her for being so broken. After only a couple of months with Draco though, he was beginning to understand how losing something so important so violently can break you. “I’m so sorry,” he said, hoping it sounded as heartfelt as it was. It didn’t feel like enough, but he didn’t think anything would be. 

“It’s hard on Lola, seeing me like this,” Mrs. Bloomtwig said, handing Harry his second drink. “I’ll sign whatever papers you need, just – take care of her for me.”

 

Harry still had two more visits to make that day, and he thanked Merlin they were easier than the one with Mrs. Bloomtwig. So far Harry had spoken with 17 families, and every single one of them had agreed to let their child attend. It had taken a fair amount of convincing some of them, but they’d all agreed in the end. Tomorrow he’d visit the war orphanage. All of the thirteen children at Hogwarts age who lived there had sent in an application, making Harry dread what he’d see. He set the thoughts aside though, as he approached the bar where he was meeting Draco and Pansy. He was a few minutes late, but if he knew the Slytherin pair, Harry would still be the first to arrive.

Five minutes after Harry had sat down, and ordered himself a drink, Draco arrived with Pansy close behind. “Late again, I see,” Harry said, fake-scowling at the pair. 

“Yes, yes,” Draco said, impatiently. “Some of us have jobs, you know.”

“Jobs?” Harry said, feigning ignorance.

“Yes, that thing people do to make money, even though they don’t like it at all,” said Draco, grinning. 

Harry placed his hand on Draco’s thigh, running it slowly higher up his leg. “I’ll make you forget all about the stupid job later.” 

“Merlin and Morgana,” Pansy said, “are the two of you capable of refraining from sex for five minutes?”

“Jealous?” Harry asked, smirking at her. 

“Yes, I am bloody jealous, and you are both terrible friends,” Pansy said, turning her nose up at them.

“Want to join us?” Draco asked, making both Harry and Pansy fix him with a strange look. 

Two heartbeats later Pansy was howling with laughter. “Need I remind you what happened the last time I found myself in your bed?” she said. 

Harry was intrigued as he realised Draco had turned bright red. “What happened?” he asked. 

“Don’t you dare Pansy,” Draco said, “you swore to me.”

“Yes, I suppose I did. Only, that was almost ten years ago, so the promise is now expired,” Pansy said, turning to grin at Harry. “So, one fateful evening at Hogwarts, Draco here decided it would be prudent to invite me into his bed,” she started.

“Must you always make it sound so dramatic?” Draco interrupted, earning himself a smack on the head. 

“I, being a well raised girl, as well as his betrothed, naturally agreed. – Yes Potter,” she said, noticing Harry’s shock, “myself and Draco was to be married, although obviously that was called off.”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco drawled. 

“Indeed,” Pansy agreed, “now if you’ll both stop with the interruptions I’ll get to the good part. So – Draco had me there in his room, on his bed actually. Things were just about to get rather heated, when he got this strange look on his face. Only seconds later he was shouting my ear off, and the sod is lucky I’d thought to put up silencing charms. Picture this Harry,” she said, holding up her hands as if to frame her story, “there he was, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince, half naked with his hands on my tits as he shouted on the top of his lungs ‘I AM A HOMOSEXUAL’.”

Harry snorted so hard he thought he might have whisky in his nose for the next few weeks. Then both he and Pansy descended into a laughing fit so severe Harry felt he might actually pass out from lack of air. 

“I did not shout it that loud,” Draco said, mock offended. Harry could tell he was mostly embarrassed and amused though. 

“I love it,” Harry gasped, breathless from laughing, “homosexual.”

“I know!” Said Pansy, laughing just as hard as Harry, “why didn’t he just say gay?”

“Why did he shout it?” Harry laughed.

“I am right here,” Draco protested, and he looked so adorably offended that Harry couldn’t help but kiss him. 

“Thanks,” said Harry, wiping his eyes. “I really fucking needed a good laugh after the day I’ve had.”

“Did they all agree to let their kids attend?” Draco asked, putting his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“Yeah, but I just – I get why the kids don’t want to go home,” Harry said, feeling the heaviness of the day rush back over him. 

“Don’t worry,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, making him shiver, “we’ll entertain Pansy for a couple hours and then I’ll make you forget all about it.”

Pansy was pretending to ignore them both, pulling a huge stack of papers out of her bag. 

“So tomorrow you’ll go see the orphanage, right?” she asked Harry, not pausing to wait for a reply, “and then the last three families we need consent from?” 

“Yep,” Harry said, still distracted by Draco’s promise. 

“Great. As for volunteers and employees. Draco and I interviewed a fair few today, and I think some of them are acceptable.”

She handed Harry the papers, and they spent the next few hours debating who would be a good addition to their camp. Harry was still amazed that enough people had applied that they could actually be a bit picky about who they hired. Draco ended up keeping his promise to Harry to make him forget all about the shitty parts of the day. And when Harry came back from the orphanage feeling even worse than he had the previous day, Draco helped him forget all over again. Harry realised he was happy. The world was awful, but when he was with Draco it all melted away, and Harry was just happy. 

Valentine’s day passed much like any other day. Harry had put a little extra effort into his blowjob, letting Draco fuck his face for the first time, which was no mean feat given his enormous cock, but other than that the day was just like any other. Most of February passed in the same fashion. Harry would spend his days trying to do what he could alone for the organisation, and then he’d meet up with Pansy and Draco in the evenings to continue the work. It was tiring, but Harry hadn’t felt so satisfied in ages. It finally felt like he was doing something that mattered, something important. About a week into March, two weeks before the camp was about to start, Pansy put away her papers and let out a relieved sigh. 

“I think we’re done,” she said, sounding a little disbelieving of her own words. 

“Really?” Harry asked, not quite believing it either. 

“Yeah. I mean, we still have to meet up with the volunteers and employees, to let them get to know each other a bit, and give them instructions and everything. And we should visit the summer house we’ll be using to see that the house-elves have everything in order, but – I mean, there isn’t anything left to plan,” Pansy said, smiling tiredly at Harry and Draco.

They’d been working until past midnight every day that week, trying to get everything in order for the Sunday staff meeting. As it was Friday evening now, they’d managed to finish with a day to spare. 

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard you say Pans,” Draco said, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“I know, right?” She agreed, “I think I’ll go sleep until Sunday now if you two don’t mind. I haven’t been this exhausted since I sat my NEWTs.”

Draco yawned, apparently in response to hearing the word sleep. Harry felt guilty, he didn’t have a day-job, so he usually had more time to sleep in after their late nights. Draco and Pansy always had to be up early the next morning though, and it was taking its toll on both of them. Pansy gave them both a kiss on the cheek, wishing them goodnight, before she left the room yawning. 

“Merlin, I’m tired,” Draco said, stifling another yawn. 

“We could just sleep tonight?” Harry offered, feeling suddenly guilty that Draco had been up even later than Pansy most nights, busy having mind-blowing sex. “Or I could go home, if you’d like. I’m meeting Ron and Hermione in the morning anyways.” Harry offered, suddenly struck by the realisation that they’d never just slept together. Sure, Harry had pretty much been living in Draco and Pansy’s flat for the past month, but he’d never slept in the same bed as Draco unless they’d had sex first.

“Would you mind terribly going home?” Draco asked, looking guilty. “Only, I’m so tired I just want to sleep for a week.”

Harry found he did mind. Not really the going home part, but that Draco clearly felt that he couldn’t just sleep if Harry was there. One look at the bags beneath Draco’s eyes told Harry this wasn’t the time to bring it up though. Draco really needed some rest.

“Not at all, like I said, I’m off tomorrow morning either way,” Harry had a semi-standing appointment to have breakfast with Ron and Hermione on Saturdays, but since starting Second Home with Draco and Pansy most Saturdays had been spent planning. Harry was actually really looking forward to seeing his friends again, so he let the small feeling of hurt and worry that Draco didn’t sleep as well with Harry there go. He’d get there, Harry figured, these things took time. 

Harry found himself grinning before he’d even knocked on the door of Ron and Hermione’s cottage the next day. He really had missed his friends, and the delicious smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes reached him even outside the house. 

“Harry!” Hermione said, after opening the door. “It’s been ages.”

“I know, sorry. It’s been really busy lately.”

“I’ve heard, how are things coming with the camp?” Hermione asked, stepping aside so Harry could escape the cold in favour of the warm and delicious-smelling hallway. 

“According to Pansy we finally finished all of the planning necessary last night,” Harry explained, grinning. 

“Harry! Is that you?” Ron yelled, from the kitchen Harry guessed, based on the direction of the sound. 

“Stop shouting in the house!” Hermione shouted right back.

“But if I leave the bacon it’ll burn,” Ron shouted. Kitchen was right then. 

Harry decided shouting back wasn’t worth Hermione’s wrath, so he went instead to find his friend, who was indeed keeping a close eye on the strips of bacon he was frying.

“Morning,” Harry said, feeling suddenly very hungry. The kitchen table was laid out with not only eggs and pancakes, but also fruits, porridge, French toast, juice and, Harry suspected, a smoothie. 

“Morning mate,” Ron said, not taking his eyes off the bacon. “It’s all about timing,” he explained.

“What’s the occasion?” Harry asked, only half joking. They’d have told him if they had more people coming over, right?

“Nothing really,” Hermione said, “Ron just has a tendency to go a bit Molly when he hasn’t seen you in a while.”

Harry laughed at how accurate that actually was. He hadn’t noticed as much when they were still in school, but after they’d gotten out Harry noticed Ron would get really nervous about how people were really _doing_ if he hadn’t seen them in a while. After Harry had dropped out of auror training, and left for a month to take some time to himself, Ron had been fuming. He’d yelled at Harry for about half an hour about how he couldn’t just up and leave without any notice, or even a bloody note, before promptly stuffing a hotdog in Harry’s hand and demanding he bloody eat something.

“He really does, doesn’t he?” Harry said to Hermione, laughing. 

“I do NOT,” Ron protested, but it didn’t sound as angry as it probably would have if he wasn’t busy removing the perfectly cooked bacon from the pan.

“You kinda do mate,” Harry said, “but if it gets me a breakfast like this I really don’t mind.”

Ron turned to look at him finally, bacon in hand. “Have you even eaten since I saw you last?” he demanded. 

“Yes, Ron, I do actually manage to feed myself,” Harry said, trying to sound condescending. He didn’t think mentioning the fact that while Harry was perfectly able to cook, the past three weeks had consisted mostly of sharing take out with Pansy and Draco and sort of forgetting the other meals of the day. 

Ron shot him a sceptical look. “I know you _can_ Harry, I just don’t think you actually _do_.”

“Yeah well, I’ve been busy,” Harry said, defensively. 

The breakfast was even more delicious than it looked. Harry ate so much he had to lie down on the sofa after, willing his body to begin digesting it all. 

“That was fucking amazing,” Harry told Ron, who grinned. “No, really, how did you make the pancakes that fluffy? I think I might be on a food high right now.”

“Bloody hell mate, you need to eat more,” Ron said, but he was still sitting a little straighter from the praise. 

“You’re one lucky woman Hermione,” Harry said. Smiling as his friends sat down in the other couch, and Ron laid his head in her lap.

“That I am,” Hermione said fondly, stroking her husband’s hair. “How’s your man doing then?”

“Draco’s fine I think,” Harry said, smiling. “He’s been working himself to the bone on this camp, but after tomorrow things will slow down a bit.”

“And how are you finding this whole relationship thing?” Ron asked from Hermione’s lap, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Honestly? I kind of love it,” Harry said, warming with the memory of all the wonderful experiences he’d already shared with Draco. “It’s all been kinda fast, you know, so I feel kinda strange saying it, but I think I’m falling for him.”

Saying it out loud made the words taste weird in Harry’s mouth. It wasn’t right, and there wasn’t really a need to keep it from his friends. “Actually, I think I already have, you know. Fallen in love with him.” 

“Oh, that is so sweet!” Hermione said, almost squealing. 

“It isn’t too soon?” Harry asked, nervously. He didn’t think Draco was quite there yet, but Harry found himself constantly imagining Draco in his future. He no longer considered where he would live a year from now, he considered where they would live. He didn’t wonder if he wanted kids, he wondered if they would want any together. Draco had this wonderful ability to light up any room, making all of Harry’s darkest thoughts about guilt, anxiety and the war disappear into the shadows. Harry always felt safe and happy around the other man.

“You’ve always been obsessed with him though, and you’ve known each other for like one third of your life,” Ron said, sitting up to look at Harry. “It’s not as if this is just some stranger you met at a party.”

Harry wanted to argue that no, he hadn’t been obsessed with Draco, but he knew that wouldn’t be true. He’d only been sixteen the first time he’d wanked consciously thinking about the other boy. Harry suspected he’d been doing it subconsciously even before that. It hadn’t always been friendly or romantic, or even sexual, but Harry had always had a lot of feelings where Draco Malfoy was concerned. Mostly it had been anger and suspicion, or what he’d thought was hate. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “there’s a long way from obsessing over him being a death eater, and wanting to spend my life with him.”

“Mate,” Ron said, “we shared a dorm you know. I _heard_ you.”

“Heard me?” Harry asked, confused and strangely embarrassed.

Ron sighed exasperated. He shut his eyes and suddenly let out a filthy moan, making Harry jump. “Yes, Malfoy, fuck, harder, yes, like that,” he said, in a tone Harry realised in horror was supposed to imitate him.

“That never happened!” He protested, horrified. 

“We were teens Harry, we all had wet dreams,” Ron said, looking both amused and embarrassed. “You and Seamus were the only ones who had them and spoke in your sleep at the same time.”

Harry remembered Seamus talking in his sleep. It would wary from everything between grocery lists, homework assignments, and, occasionally breathy moans and whispers of things like ‘fucking suck it’ followed by more moans. 

“I didn’t,” Harry said, “please tell me I didn’t.”

“You did mate,” Ron said. Harry saw Hermione nodding as well and he turned on her, accusing.

“You might have done it a few times when we were off hunting horcruxes as well,” she said, and at least had the decency to look guilty. “I thought it was another nightmare at first, but well - it wasn’t,” she finished, blushing. 

“Why didn’t anyone fucking tell me?” Harry demanded of his friends, feeling utterly mortified, heat rising in his cheeks. 

“It wasn’t just about Malfoy though, back then you seemed to have them about pretty much everyone. I didn’t think too much about it,” Ron said, shrugging.

“I didn’t mean the Draco part, I meant why didn’t you ever tell me I was apparently narrating my sex dreams out loud. For fucks sake Ron,” Harry said, wishing he could disappear and never see any of his old room-mates ever again. 

“Hang on!” Harry said, before Ron could answer, “You’re telling me, that when I came out to you and Hermione feeling nervous as fuck you both -,”

“Knew?” Hermione offered, “yeah we did.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered. He thought in horror about the dreams he’d had after hitting puberty. Ron was right, he had pretty much dreamt about having sex with everyone. Even, Harry cringed, Ron himself. Not to mention his little sister. 

“Did you hear -,” Harry started to ask, before he realised he really didn’t want to hear the answer to that. He was suddenly very happy Hermione was one of the people he’d never seen that way. Not even subconsciously. 

Ron grimaced. “Yeah Harry, I pretty much heard them all.”

“Oh god,” Harry said, burying his face in his hands “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Hermione said cheerfully. “You love us, and you love Draco too.”

* * *

“Welcome to the Easter Holiday camp,” Harry said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way at the children in front of him. In the end, they’d ended up with 36 children attending the Easter camp. They were all stood in front of Harry now, who was supposed to make them feel safe and welcome before sending them off to their rooms. 

“While you’re here we’ll be following Hogwarts rules, with a few exceptions. First of all, you are allowed anywhere in the house except the staff quarters. If you wake up and feel hungry or in need of the bathroom feel free to use it, but bedtime is 11 at the latest. That means you can go grab a bite to eat, but I don’t want any late-night parties going on,” Harry tried to give the children a firm look. They’d had an argument over this rule. Some of the employees didn’t want to let the children leave their rooms, but Harry really didn’t want them to feel locked up. He had bad memories of that. 

“Second, you will all share a bedroom with one other person. You all sent in lists of people you know and like, and I hope we’ve managed to room you all with someone you at least know,” Harry really hoped so at least, because the puzzle of making sure they were all with someone familiar and somewhat safe had taken him the better part of a week. 

“Third, this isn’t school. It’s a holiday. I want you to be respectful to all the adults that are here, but you’re free to call us all by our first names. We want you to enjoy your time here, so if anything doesn’t feel right, or you wish something was different please let us know, and we’ll see what we can do,” Harry tried to remember if they’d come up with any more general rules, but he couldn’t really think of any that wasn’t also a rule at Hogwarts. Like ‘don’t bully’. 

“Oh yeah, and a few of you are seventh years,” Harry said. “I know you’re of legal drinking age, but alcohol is not allowed at this camp. Not for you, and not for the staff.” He chanced a look at Lola Bloomtwig, a thirteen-year-old girl near the back of the group. He noticed she wasn’t the only one who looked relieved at his statement. 

“Any questions?” Harry asked, and wasn’t really surprised when a _lot_ of hands shot into the air. 

“Is it true there is a Quidditch pitch here?” One of the older kids asked, Harry thought it was a sixth year Hufflepuff.

“Yes, it is, and that reminds me,” Harry said, grinning, “my good friend Ginny Weasley, chaser for the Harpies, spoke to her team and they donated all their old Firebolt 2004’s to us.” It wasn’t really right calling a Firebolt 2004 old Harry thought, as they had only just been made available to the general public. The players in the league though, were all upgrading to the newest Nimbus, that had come out only a month before. “Then the Cannons and Puddlemere United decided to donate theirs too so now we have 30 excellent brooms for you all to use.”

The statement earned Harry a round of applause, that was soon followed by more questions. Harry was glad they had all arrived here after a full day of schooling at Hogwarts, because after about an hour answering questions the younger kids were yawning and having trouble keeping both eyes open. 

“I know you have a lot of questions,” Harry said, “but we should all be heading to bed. The rest of staff and I will be happy to answer whatever questions you might have at breakfast tomorrow.”

Harry continued to explain where everyone would be staying, and that their luggage had already been taken to their room. He made sure they all found their bed, and comforted a first-year boy who was scared by being in a strange, new place. By the time Harry made it into his own bed another hour had already passed. Harry smiled into his pillow, this week would be exhausting, but he was loving it already.

Pansy and Draco wouldn’t be able to join the camp until the third day because of their jobs at the ministry. This wasn’t actually a problem, as they had lots of staff and volunteers at the house. It did mean more work for Harry though, as he was the one that had to answer all the questions the fresh staff had. He realised that no matter how well he and the Slytherin pair had planned, they couldn’t possibly plan for everything. Harry made a lot of decisions on the go, hoping Draco and Pansy wouldn’t mind when they arrived. 

Harry was in the middle of dealing with one of those situations, one of his staff had come to tell him that a first year had told him how nice it was to have a holiday without his mother beating him, when Hermione arrived. 

“Hermione, thank fuck, I need your help,” Harry said, not even caring how he sounded to the man he was talking to. 

Harry’s fears were confirmed when Hermione told him there wasn’t really anyone in the ministry they could contact about the boy. Abuse was against the law, so their only option would be flooing the aurors, and hoping they would be able to do something about it. 

“I fucking hate this,” Harry said, “I mean, I knew the kids who applied here would mostly be the ones who didn’t want to be home. But I just feel so helpless.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “I think we should try the aurors though, see what they say.”

Harry threw the floo powder into the fireplace, and was disappointed to discover that they had closed it to non-emergency cases for the day.

“I’ll owl them,” Hermione offered. “At least he won’t be going home until summer at the earliest, so we have some time to figure this out.”

After Hermione left, Harry decided he should eat dinner with the kids, despite wanting to crawl up in bed alone. He really needed Draco here, and he was glad the man would be arriving the next day. It was all so much easier when Draco was around.

* * *

“Harry, you’re crushing me,” Draco complained. Harry hadn’t let go of him since he’d arrived five minutes ago. They were in the staff break room, and thankfully alone Harry noted, and kissed Draco again.

“I don’t care,” Harry said, petulantly “It was terrible without you here.”

“Did something happen?” Draco said, worried. 

“Yes, no, I don’t know. Nothing we didn’t expect, really. But they all kept asking me for help and advice, and just putting all the responsibility on me,” Harry complained, knowing he was being childish. Surely he was allowed to be after spending three full days at a camp surrounded by children?

“You are the leader of this organisation, you realise?” Draco asked, sounding amused.

“So are you and Pansy,” Harry protested, “why do I have to deal with children being beaten or refusing to eat or crying themselves to sleep all alone?”

“You’re not alone anymore,” Draco said, and it was so simple. Harry wasn’t alone of course, because Draco and Pansy had arrived at the camp and would stay there for the next week. It felt deeper than that though, like he wasn’t and never would be alone anymore because Draco was there now.


	5. Chapter 5

_I seek the love so eagerly that I don’t want to see what might interfere with it.  
Anais Nin_

Staying at the camp was a lot more fun when Draco and Pansy was there to share the burden of being responsible for it all. Harry felt his heart swell when the skinny boy who’d refused to eat after arriving was having normal sized portions five days in. He smiled when he caught two sixth year girls snogging in an empty room, one Slytherin one Hufflepuff. Ginny and a couple of her team mates arrived to help coach the kids in Quidditch, and Hermione and a few other volunteers helped with the homework they’d been assigned to do over break. 

The evening before Easter Sunday Harry stayed up late, hiding a grand total of two hundred eggs all over the property and house. He’d placed an order with Honeydukes for a variety of colours, chocolates and sizes. 

“Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?” Draco asked when Harry finally found his way to bed.

“No judging,” Harry demanded, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “It’s my first egg hunt.”

“Is it really? Didn’t your family do egg hunts?” Draco asked, running a hand down Harry’s back.

“No, they did,” Harry admitted. “I just wasn’t allowed to join.”

“What do you mean you weren’t allowed?” Draco said, sounding somehow careful.

“You don’t know?” Harry asked. He’d figured Draco knew about his relatives being – Harry’s brain tried to avoid the word, but it was the one that fit best - abusive. When Draco had asked Harry to be part of this project Harry had assumed he’d known. 

“Know what?” Draco asked. Harry could feel Draco’s eyes on the back of his head, but he didn’t turn. He liked Draco stroking his back, and he didn’t really like looking at people when he spoke about his childhood. 

“They didn’t, er, like me much. Or my magic,” Harry said. Draco’s hand disappeared from his back and he made a noise of complaint. 

“What did they do?” Draco said, voice calm, almost too calm Harry thought, but his hand was back on Harry’s back so it was ok. 

“They didn’t hit me or anything. That was just Dudley, my cousin, and only if he could catch me,” Harry reassured. 

“That doesn’t really make me feel much better,” Draco said, and Harry realised Draco wasn’t calm, he was angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, wishing he’d never brought this up in the first place. He wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t thought Draco already knew.

“Don’t you be sorry!” Draco said “They’re the ones who should be sorry. By Morgana, I’ll make them sorry.”

“Don’t,” Harry said, feeling small. He always felt small when he thought about his childhood. Like he was still the boy beneath the stairs that had to do all the chores and apologise for everything. “I’d rather just -, I’d rather move on.”

“You always looked so thin,” Draco said, as if realising something terrible. “After summer, you always looked so thin. But you didn’t eat that much after coming back, and I just thought if you were starving you would have – fuck I’ll kill them. They starved you, didn’t they?”

“I would get sick,” Harry admitted after a while, “If I ate too much after eating so little all summer.”

“That’s why this camp means so much to you?” Draco asked.

Harry just nodded. He supposed the camp had become very important to him. Ever since he’d joined the project he hadn’t worked for any other charity, focusing all his efforts on doing this _right_. 

“I wondered why you put in so much effort. I didn’t think you would, when I asked,” Draco said. “I mean, we couldn’t have done it without you, not this soon, but when I asked I thought you might donate a few hours or days like you’ve done with most charities.”

Still feeling like the small unloved child Harry immediately felt guilty. He’d done too much, stolen Draco and Pansy’s project from under them and made it his own. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, horrified by how much his voice shook. 

“I’m not,” Draco said firmly. “Like I said, we couldn’t have done this without you. And even if we could have, neither of us would have wanted to.” Draco moved his hand from Harry’s back again, but this time it was to pull him in closer. He let Harry rest his head on his other arm, and put one of his legs over Harry, holding him close.

Harry let out a shuddering breath, along with the tears he’d been holding in. He wasn’t that lost unloved boy, not anymore. Draco held him, pretending not to notice the tears until Harry fell asleep and Harry knew he’d been right when he spoke with Ron and Hermione. He loved Draco.

* * *

Harry was both sad and unsurprised to find he wasn’t the only person at the camp who’d never had an egg hunt before. “I’ve hidden loads of eggs everywhere,” he explained, while the staff handed out baskets to the kids. “They’re all wrapped in shiny paper, and made of different kinds of chocolate. The search will last for two hours, and after that you’ll get to keep all the eggs you’ve found. There will be prices to the people who find the most eggs, the smallest egg, the largest egg, the four Hogwarts house themed ones and the most eggs in one colour. The first person to touch an egg owns it, I don’t want to see anyone trying to steal one. I’ve charmed them so I’ll know who took it first.”

The excitement on the kids’ faces made Harry grin. Even the older kids looked excited, despite how Harry had heard one of them telling his friends he was way too old for this kind of thing. “Any questions?” Harry asked, somewhat surprised when there wasn’t any “In that case, the egg hunt will begin in three…two…one..GO!”

The kids raced off in different directions, holding onto their baskets like a lifeline. Not two minutes later Lola came up to Harry proudly holding on to the Gryffindor egg.

“I’ve found it Harry, look!” She yelled at him, too excited to remember to lower her voice.

Harry grinned at the girl, she was smiling a lot more now than she had before. “Go see how many more you can find!” he said. 

An hour later the game was still on. Harry’s charm told him about half the eggs had been found, and he grinned at the excited children running around trying to find more. He’d charmed some of the eggs only to be visible to the first and second years, wanting to give them a fair chance against the older children. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, startling him. He hadn’t noticed her, too caught up in the laughter and joy all around him. 

“Hi!” Harry said turning. At seeing the look on his friends face Harry’s face fell immediately. 

“The aurors can’t do shit, right?” he asked her.

“Not really, no,” she admitted, looking furious. “I’ve spoken to five of them already and they all claim they can’t do anything more than give the mother a fine or short sentence, and even then, they’d need to actually catch her doing it.”

“That would only make her even angrier with him,” Harry said, feeling frustrated. He’d told Draco the Dursleys hadn’t hit him, but Vernon had, the one time. Harry’s teacher had been worried enough to send a concerned letter home, questioning Harry’s welfare. Vernon had been furious, and demanded Harry never ever act in a way to make anyone question himself and his wife ever again.

“I suspect it would, yeah,” Hermione agreed. “I can’t believe there isn’t a system for this. The muggles have had one for ages. Someone has to protect kids from their own parents, when that parent is unfit.”

“You should talk to Draco,” Harry said, hearing the ‘I’ve just found a cause’ tone in Hermione’s voice. “That’s the reason he started these camps in the first place. From what I’ve gathered it’s just the first step.”

“I will actually,” Hermione said. “I can’t see children treated this way, with nowhere to turn for help. It’s not right.” 

“It’s not,” Harry agreed. 

Hermione sighed. “About Wally, I did get him this,” she said, holding out a small pendant on a string. “It’s a portkey, if he touches it and says ‘Auror help’ he’ll be taken to the Auror offices. It’s not enough, not even close, but it could help if it ever gets really bad.”

“I’ll give it to him,” Harry said, sadness looming over him again as if a lightbulb had gone out. “Hopefully the sad excuse for a mother will let him come back this summer, so maybe he won’t have to go home.”

“Let’s hope so,” Hermione agreed. “All we need is time, because I will change the system on this. I swear to God, Merlin and whoever else is listening.”

Harry smiled at his friend. She’d definitely found a new cause, and Harry knew she was right. With Hermione on the case it would only be a matter of time before something changed. 

For the final day of camp, they had a bit of a party. Harry bought loads of muggle and wizarding sweets, food, fizzy drinks, and non-alcoholic butterbeers. Ron and George showed up with the fireworks Harry had requested, lighting up the night sky with brilliant colours. To Harry’s surprise and the children’s delight the brothers also brought each kid a goodie bag with items from their shop. Apparently, it had been George’s idea, claiming that ‘no child should be denied the joy of pranking’. Harry wholeheartedly agreed. 

As the kids started going to bed, thinning the crowd, Harry found himself rather sad that it was all over. Tomorrow there would only be time for breakfast before the kids would all go back to Hogwarts. Harry hoped they would all return for the summer camps, hopefully bringing even more people along. 

“Well that was unusually sad,” Pansy said the next day, after they had waved goodbye to the last of the busses carrying the children to Kings Cross station. 

It had been, Harry thought. Several of the kids had asked if they could just stay here, instead of going back to school. The most heart-breaking ones though, were the children who asked if they could live at the camp, instead of going back home. 

“We need to have the camp open all summer,” Harry said, determined. They’d been discussing it before the Easter camp, wondering if they should have camp just in July or August, or if they should open for both. 

“Yeah, no way I’m turning a single one of those kids away for even a day,” Pansy agreed. 

“The ones who want to, and need it, will be welcome from the second Hogwarts closes to the second it opens,” Draco said. “We might have some issues convincing some of the parents, but I have a feeling the worst of them are happy they don’t need to be caring for their children.”

Harry agreed, not really knowing if it was a blessing or a curse.

“We should send out the sign-up forms immediately,” Pansy said. “I’m sure some of the kids would like to spend some time at home with their families as well, the ones who doesn’t have a horrible one, so we should have the option of staying for like, at least a week and then more for those who want to?”

Harry had an urge to kiss Pansy right then and there. Not in a romantic or sexual way, just with relief and gratitude. He so desperately needed to move, to do something. Easter camp had just given him a taste for all the useful work they could be doing. Seeing that Pansy was just as fired up was such a relief to Harry. 

“As much as I agree Pansy, the two of us really have to be getting back to work,” Draco said, sounding disappointed. 

“Yeah, about that,” Pansy said, sounding unsure. “I’ve been considering quitting. I didn’t want to say or do anything in case Easter was a bust, but I really think we need more than one person doing this full time.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Harry said.

“You do know the organisation can’t afford to pay you yet, right?” Draco said. “I’m pretty sure we’ll start getting donations the more popular we get, and we might be able to convince the Ministry to help us out even more financially if we can keep this going, but all of that will take a while.”

“I know,” said Pansy. “but we both know my family has enough money for me to live comfortably three times over without having to work. I’ve been thinking, and I want to do this. But only if you’re both alright with it.”

Harry was more than alright with it. He’d been doing a lot for the organisation while the other two worked their day jobs, but he hadn’t been able to do much planning or legal work. Pansy was the only one who actually understood all of the legal crap they had to swim through, and all of the planning required at least one other person to bounce ideas around with. Besides, Harry had never felt right just making decisions without the other two present. He realised Pansy wasn’t really asking him though, because it was Draco she was fixing with an unsure look.

“I think,” Draco said, “that if this is what you really want we should make some changes to our organisation.”

“Changes how?” Harry asked. He didn’t want changes, really, he wanted things to stay the same. Only, he thought, considering how tired both Pansy and Draco had been from putting the Easter camp together, something really did have to change.

“I don’t want to quit my job,” Draco said in a rush, “I know I complain about it all the time, but I do actually like it. I like getting a pay check every month, although I know I don’t need it. And, well, I’ve noticed you both seem to be genuinely enjoying the work we’ve been doing with the organisation -.”

“You don’t?” Harry interrupted. Draco hadn’t been enjoying the work even a little this whole time?

“Not in the way the two of you do,” Draco admitted. “Like I told you before we started this thing, for me the end goal is a change in the ministry laws. Hermione spoke with me yesterday, telling me she’s gained interest in doing the same.” Draco didn’t face either Harry or Pansy as he spoke. 

“You two seem to enjoy the planning, the organising, and even being here with the children. I think I enjoy the politics of it more. I’d like to continue in my job, working with Hermione to change the ministry from within.” 

“You want to quit?” Pansy asked, sounding as hurt as Harry felt. 

“Not exactly. Right now, the three of us are functioning as the directors and administration of this organisation. I would like the two of you to take over on that, and remain on as a silent partner.”

“What does that even mean,” Harry asked. He hadn’t even realised he was a director of this thing. 

“It means he’ll keep donating his money and lending us his properties, maybe even attend our meetings once a year, but otherwise will be fucking off and leaving us to it,” Pansy said, sounding angry now. “I was nervous to tell you I wanted to do this full time, because I was scared you’d feel like I was stealing it from you. And now you tell me you don’t even want it?”

“Pansy,” Draco said, reaching out to take her hand. “I always said this was about changing things at the ministry for me. It breaks my heart to see how these children are treated, and I need to do something about it.”

“So stay!” Pansy demanded. 

“I can’t!” Draco shouted, shocking both Harry and Pansy. He let go of Pansy, only to start pacing back and forth in front of them. “I don’t know how the two of you do it. Talking with alcoholised parents, trying to help kids who are being beaten when there isn’t any help to give. It hurts too much, alright? I want to help, but I need to do it in a way that doesn’t kill me.”

Harry wanted to reach out to Draco and hold him tight. The pain on his face was so clear now, it felt like it was cutting into Harry. 

“In that case,” Pansy said, “well make changes, but I won’t have this silent partner nonsense.” 

In the end Pansy and Draco both had to go to work, despite the fact that they’d both be terribly late. Harry stayed at the summer ‘house’ Draco had donated to the organisation to use for the Easter camp. It would most likely be the one they’d use for the summer camp as well. It was on the seaside after all, and swimming was one of the most important parts of summer, Harry thought. They hadn’t had the time to change things at the house before camp. Well, Draco referred to it as a house, Harry thought it looked more like a mansion or castle. 

Harry wandered the halls, trying to imagine how they could make changes to it, to make it more comfortable for the children, and to make room for even more. They had already taken down anything related to the Malfoy family, Harry assumed it had been moved to other estates. They had also turned the old House Elf quarters into the ones for the staff. That allowed the staff a place of the mansion-castle-house to retire from the children. It had a separate kitchen, bathroom, living-room and several bedrooms. Harry thought more of how he could change up the kids’ rooms. So far, they had simply placed two beds in all the bedrooms. The so-called house apparently had 20 of those, meaning there was room for 40 children. Harry thought there would be room for a lot more though, if they separated some of the larger bedrooms in two, or even three. Several of the kids who roomed in the master bedrooms had complained that the room felt too large. Like it wasn’t even a bedroom. Harry entered one of them, and found himself agreeing. He could easily fit three of his own bedrooms into this one alone. 

Harry tried not to think about Draco’s wish to quit the organisation. Or become a quiet partner or whatever. He wasn’t really successful though. Even if he did manage to distract himself for a while by drawing out the floorplans for the entire not-house. Did Draco really find it so painful to work directly with the children? Harry had to admit he didn’t really mind the fact that Draco didn’t want to do the work with the kids anymore, he was more afraid of how it would affect their relationship. They had spent pretty much every day together for months, planning and organizing the camp. What if they weren’t able to find the time for each other anymore, after Draco quit? Harry decided to push the worry away, there wasn’t anything he could do about it either way. Instead he made himself busy wondering if the huge barn outside the house could be renovated to house the older students, or if they should try to get some animals for the summer camp.

When Draco and Pansy showed up at Harry’s flat the next day, Pansy had a plan. “So, me and Harry stay on as directors of the organisation, and the administration of the camp program, you will stay on as administration of the lobbying program., and hopefully Granger will want to join that as well,” she said, sounding very pleased with herself.

“The lobbying program?” Draco asked. 

“Yes, it will allow you to not only work the ministry from within, but also represent the organisation at various political events. Lobbying to make the laws we, as an organisation, support become reality,” Pansy explained. 

“That’s brilliant Pans!” Draco said grinning at her. 

“Hermione will join,” Harry offered, confident he knew his friend well enough to predict her actions on this. 

“That’s good,” Pansy said. “Also, I’ve had a nice little chat with my boss,” she continued in a tone that made Harry suspect the conversation had been anything but nice, “and he’s agreed to let me quit with only a week notice.”

Draco apparently noticed the tone too, because he laughed. “I’m sure that chat was absolutely lovely,” he said, smirking at Pansy. “Now honestly, while I do love you, I haven’t had a free moment alone with Harry in a week.”

“Fine, I’ll fuck off,” Pansy said, smirking at them both. Harry blushed intensely. He really had missed the sex with Draco something terrible while the camp was on, but he’d just been so busy, and the walls had been so terribly thin. 

The look Draco was sending Harry now was so filthy Harry immediately grew hard, despite Pansy still being present in the room.

She seemed to sense the tension between the men, “right. I’ll pass on the parting hugs I think. Enjoy,” she said, and apparated out. 

The second she was gone Draco was on him, kissing him hard, and fuck Harry had _missed_ this. He’d been so busy the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, but a week was by far the longest he and Draco had gone without having sex, and it suddenly felt like torture. “Yes,” Harry moaned as Draco bit down on his neck, only to pull back and gently lick the red mark he’d left. 

Draco’s hands were working on opening Harry’s jeans, but it wasn’t long before the man growled in frustration and pulled his wand out. Draco vanished Harry’s jeans and pants before Harry registered what happened, then Draco turned his wand to himself, doing the same thing. 

“Careful where you point that thing,” Harry demanded, “I’ll kill you if you vanish your cock.”

Draco smirked at Harry, reaching out to pull off his t-shirt. The only piece of clothing Harry still had on. He ripped his own shirt off moments later, and then he was on Harry again, slamming him against the wall. Harry moaned at the delicious heat of the skin on skin contact. He tried pushing against Draco to get some relief for his already aching cock, but Draco pulled away. 

“If we don’t go to the bedroom now,” Draco said, breathlessness obvious with each word, “we’ll never make it.”

Harry surveyed his living room, eyes landing on the dining table he’d bought but never used. He usually ate in the kitchen or on the sofa. He figured it was time the table got some much-needed attention. 

“Fuck the bedroom,” he told Draco, walking over to the table and bending over it. He placed his hands out, grabbing onto the edges of the table. Taking a deep breath, Harry spread his legs. He really hoped he managed to look fuckable, instead of just ridiculous. 

Draco let out a groan, and Harry figured he’d done something right. This was confirmed when Draco didn’t cast a lubrication charm and start to fuck him, but when he instead kneeled behind Harry, spread his cheeks and _licked_. Harry instantly pushed back against Draco’s face, wanting more. He felt dirty and exposed and wonderful all the way to his toes. Draco licked again, and again, making Harry’s cock leak with the pleasure of it. When Draco put his whole mouth against Harry’s hole and sucked Harry thought he might die, or orgasm, or both. He did neither though, instead shouting out in pleasure and pure want. “Please,” he begged, “Draco please.”

At this point Harry wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he was certain it wasn’t that Draco would release his arse and stand up. He wanted more touching not less. Harry whined in disappointment, earning himself a sharp slap on his arse. It satisfied him long enough to realise Draco had finally conjured some lube, and was slicking himself up. Harry licked his lips at the sight, he had his head turned in an awkward position on the table to see it, but the opportunity to see Draco stroking his own cock would always be worth it. Just the sight sent tingles through Harry’s entire body. Harry released the table, letting his upper body rest on the table he reached back, grabbing his own arse and holding it open for Draco. Harry supposed he should feel embarrassed, but he was too turned on to care. He just wanted Draco, and he wanted him now. 

Draco seemed to share this idea, because moments later he was pushing inside Harry, stretching him open. Harry winced at the pain, and pushed back for more at the same time. Harry soon felt Draco’s balls slap against his arse, and he moaned, desperately wanting Draco to move. 

“Fuck,” Harry gasped when Draco did. Draco didn’t start hard this time, instead pulling out slowly and in again at the same excruciating pace. Harry tried pushing back, but Draco trapped his hips against the table, forcing Harry to stand completely still. It was torture, but it was the best torture Harry could imagine. To him, it felt as if Draco was slowly fucking him for hours, although he knew realistically it couldn’t have been that long. When Draco finally started fucking him properly Harry was nearly crying with the need to come.

“Tell me,” Draco said, fucking Harry as hard, “when you’re close.”

Harry thought he was already close, he’d felt like he was close before they even started. It only took a few more pushes from Draco before Harry called out “close! Fuck.” Just as Harry was about to let go and come all over himself and the table he felt a tight pressure around the base of his cock, and he was no longer able to.

“Fuck,” he shouted, frustration making tears prickle in his eyes. 

“The Nogasm spell,” Draco explained, pausing his relentless thrusting. “You don’t come until I say you do.”

Harry was too far gone to argue, his whole body shaking and pulsating with raw need. Everything was intensifying. The feeling of Draco’s cock pushing into him in a steady rhythm, how his hips banged against the table with each thrust, the obscene smacking sound Draco’s balls made every time they slapped against Harry’s arse. Harry could smell it all too, the woody scent of the table his face was pressed against mingling with the sweaty smell of sex. It was all too much, way too much, and Harry felt like he should have come hours ago. 

When Draco orgasmed, releasing his warm fluid inside Harry, and pulling out to milk the rest onto Harry’s arse and thighs, the need to come had become almost painful. Draco turned Harry around, helping him lay down on the table. Harry felt like his sore arse against the cold table would be enough to push him over the edge at this point, but whatever spell Draco had cast seemed to have removed the edge. No matter how high Harry climbed, there was no ledge to fall off. 

“Please,” he managed, looking at Draco pleadingly. He needed to come so badly, he could feel his pulse beating throughout his entire body. Everything felt sensitive. 

“Show me how much you want it,” Draco said, smirking down at Harry from where he stood beside the table. “Touch yourself.”

Harry moved his hands slowly towards his aching cock. He was so desperate and sensitive he was afraid what would happen when he reached it. The need for release was too overwhelming though, so Harry closed his fist around himself and started moving his hand in gentle strokes. 

It was both the most wonderful thing Harry had felt, and the most painful. Each stroke of his hand sent him higher and higher with pleasure and need, but it also made him even more sensitive and desperate. Harry was impossibly torn between letting go, and squeezing harder. His whole world was a mess of blinding hot, painful pleasure when he finally, _finally_ , heard Draco mutter the counter spell. Harry came immediately, waves of never-ending pleasure flooding through him again and again. Never in his life had Harry come this hard, and it didn’t seem to end. He couldn’t tell if he was shouting or biting his lip or both, but he was faintly aware of a coppery taste on his tongue. When the waves of pleasure eventually slowed down into a faint tingle of satisfaction, Harry was no longer able to move. He’d never felt so exhausted in his entire life. He was faintly aware of Draco picking him up, presumably carrying him to the bed, but Harry was asleep before they got there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here is where it starts getting pretty angsty. It won't last forever, but this and the next couple of chapters are pretty deppressing.

_So you'll be mine  
Forever and almost always   
And I'll be fine   
Just love me when you can   
And I'll wait patiently   
I'll wake up every day   
Just hoping that you still care   
Kate Voegele_

 

Harry found he really enjoyed working with Pansy. They had decided they should set some office hours for themselves, so as not to entirely mess up their sleep schedule. That meant that every morning at 8.30 Harry apparated to the summer not-house to meet Pansy at the office there. They’d found it was easiest to simply use the house as a base of operations, especially with the renovations they planned on doing. The changes in the structure of the organisation Harry had been so worried about had actually turned out to be rather brilliant. 

He spent his weekdays with Pansy, planning and organising the summer camps. Then he spent most of his evenings with Draco, talking, eating and having the most wonderful sex. On the weekends Harry would spend time with Draco, Hermione and Ron and occasionally Teddy or the Weasleys. He felt happy and at peace with his life for the first time he could remember. Not only was his personal life perfect, he’d finally found a job he both genuinely enjoyed and valued. To top it all off Pansy had evolved from being Draco’s friend, to being Harry’s colleague, to Harry’s friend. They ate their lunch together daily, never going to the same place twice, choosing instead to try what felt like all the restaurants in London. Harry had expressed some concern as to what they would do if they did end up trying them all, but Pansy had assured him there were always other cities. 

The organisation was doing really well too. After their success with the Easter camp, they had received a lot more applications, both from children wanting to attend, and people wanting to volunteer. They had also started getting more donations, both from various businesses and people who wanted to support what they were doing. 

Looking back, Harry should have known it couldn’t last.

* * *

Harry knocked on Draco’s door. His plans with Teddy had fallen through because the boy had gotten a cold, so Harry had decided to come early. When Draco didn’t open, Harry let himself into the flat. Pansy had keyed him into the wards ages ago, and Harry knew Draco would be home, it being Sunday morning. Draco was always home on Sunday mornings, if he wasn’t at Harry’s flat. 

“Draco?” Harry called, without getting an answer. Harry took a quick look in the kitchen before walking upstairs, maybe Draco was still in bed reading the paper. 

The feeling that something was wrong hit Harry before he even opened Draco’s bedroom door. He couldn’t place it, but something definitely felt off. Harry considered turning back, going home and just meeting Draco later, but he couldn’t really say why he felt that way. There must be some truth to divination and gut feelings, Harry thought as he opened the door, because he really wished he’d listened to the feeling of dread in his stomach. Draco was definitely still in bed, he just wasn’t alone. 

Draco moaned as Mark fucked into him with his ugly Canadian dick, neither of them noticing Harry standing in the doorway. Or, maybe they had noticed, but couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck, Harry thought hysterically. Obviously, Draco didn’t give a fuck, not about Harry at least. Harry wanted to move, needed to. He had to run away, or curse them both, or scream. He couldn’t do anything besides stare though. Harry couldn’t tell how long he stood there before Draco’s eyes locked on his, and suddenly it was as if a spell broke and he could finally move again. He took a step back before breaking eye contact with Draco, and walking quickly towards the stairs. He’d almost made it out of the flat when he heard his name.

“Harry wait!” Draco said, rushing after Harry, only wearing his pants. 

Harry didn’t know why, but he stopped. Despite just finding Draco cheating on him, all he really wanted was Draco. He’d become the man Harry leaned on when he felt like shit, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt more like shit than he did right now.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “I know we’re not exclusive or anything, but seeing it like that can’t have been comfortable.”

Harry was glad he hadn’t turned around to face Draco, because he felt his face twist into a grimace and tears welling in his eyes. He’d heard of heartbreak, and always imagined it would feel like pieces of glass tearing at the inside of his body. In a way it did, but Harry hadn’t accounted for the gushing hole that would be left in the place his heart had been. _‘I know we’re not exclusive’_ echoed in his head. Draco hadn’t been cheating on him, it had been much, much worse. This whole time, this whole relationship. It had all been in Harry’s head. He was just, what, a fuck buddy and business partner to Draco? How long had Draco been back with Mark, how many other people had Draco been fucking while Harry was convinced he’d finally found a partner?

“Yeah, no, it’s er-, I’m gonna go,” Harry said, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” Draco asked, “for the meeting with Pansy?” He sounded so casual Harry wanted to puke. If anything, there was just a small bit of embarrassment in his voice, nothing else. Like nothing had happened, like Harry’s world hadn’t just been crushed to pieces. 

“I can’t come,” Harry said. He needed time, space, he needed to get the fuck out of this flat. “Sorry, I have something to do. That’s what I came here to say.” It was a bad excuse, and he knew it. Harry found though, that thinking when his body was a wasteland of shattered glass was close to impossible. 

“I’ll knock, next time,” Harry said, “sorry.”

For once the crushing feeling of apparition was a relief to Harry, because if nothing else it was taking him away from Draco. He crawled into his bed the second his feet hit the floor of his flat, desperate to shut the world out. How had this even happened? How had he managed to imagine a whole relationship? Harry knew he didn’t have much experience with dating, but this had to be what it looked like? He was with Draco every day, they had sex almost every day, they kissed each other and held hands, and gone out on dates and, damn it, Harry had fallen in love with the git. He had just assumed they were boyfriends, and his stomach lurched as he realised they had never once called each other that, never once been real boyfriends. Merlin, he was so fucking stupid. Harry threw the tear stained pillow across the room. He’d already fallen in love with Draco, and Draco, the king of monogamy, didn’t even _like_ Harry enough to commit to him. 

_‘I know we’re not exclusive’_ Draco had said, in such a casual tone, as if it was obvious. As if he’d never be exclusive with someone like Harry. Maybe it had been obvious, maybe Harry had just been seeing things that weren’t there because he so desperately wanted them to be. The worst part was, Harry wanted to go back to that. To when he’d been blissfully ignorant. He didn’t want to let Draco go. Of course, he didn’t _have_ to. He could still have Draco, continue just like they had been, knowing Draco didn’t feel anything for him. The thought made his entire body hurt, ache with the loss of what had never been his in the first place, but it was still better than the alternative. Harry fallen fast and hard, and he was already in too deep. Yes. Fuck it. He’d accept whatever Draco was willing to give him, for as long as he was willing to keep giving it. 

Harry wondered if Mark knew about Draco’s newfound non-exclusive nature. Harry hoped he did, because if Mark didn’t know, and Harry did, that made Harry the mistress, didn’t it? Harry didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to think at all, he had to shut it all out because every thought hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe properly. Harry went in search of alcohol, but only found the half bottle of tequila Draco had bought them. Harry didn’t want to drink that. It would defeat the entire point of not thinking about Draco anymore.

Ron and Hermione would still be out, Harry realised, eating Sunday brunch at the Burrow. Ron always had a well-stocked bar, and that was really all it took for Harry to apparate to their house and help himself to it. Ron found him there hours later, wasted out of his mind.

“Harry, mate, what the hell are you doing?” Ron asked, sounding more concerned than angry. Harry found that stupid. Ron should be angry; besides he shouldn’t ask what Harry was doing. Harry was drunk, obviously.

“You’re stupid,” Harry said. Or tried to say, as it came out more along the lines of “yu shtopid.”

“Bloody hell Harry,” Ron said, leaving the room, and re-emerging with a potion bottle in hand. “Drink this,” he demanded, handing the bottle to Harry.

“Whasisit?” Harry asked, trying to give one of the three Ron’s in front of him a sour look.

“It’s whisky,” Ron promised, and Harry promptly drank the bottle.

It wasn’t whisky Harry soon realised. Both because the sobering effect of the potion gave him back his wits enough to recognise the label, and because he suddenly felt mostly sober again. Harry stood up, determined to get more alcohol, because he didn’t want to be sober. He lost his balance trying to do so though, and he realised the potion hadn’t sobered him up entirely.

“Merlin Harry, you’re still drunk? How much did you drink?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. He looked around the room, and found the sofa table littered with bottles. A few empty, but most of them still full. Flopping back down on the sofa and grabbing one of the bottles, Harry decided to avoid looking at Ron entirely. He had meant to leave, after stealing a bottle or two of alcohol, but at some point he must have forgotten.

For a second it looked like Ron was about to stop Harry from drinking, but he apparently thought better of it. “What happened?” he asked instead.

“I’m an idiot is what happened,” Harry muttered, taking a swing of the whisky. He tried to focus on the sting in his throat as it went down, instead of on his thoughts. 

“What did the fucking ferret do?” Ron demanded, apparently not needing more than a drunk depressed Harry on his couch to blame Draco. 

Ron hadn’t even said his name, but the reference to Draco still made Harry close his eyes to avoid crying. That turned out to be a bad idea as the image of him in bed with Mark was still burned onto Harry’s retinas. 

“Not really his fault,” Harry admitted, taking another swing of the bottle. He didn’t want to tell Ron, because not only was Harry heartbroken, he was also embarrassed. 

“What, did you cheat on him?” Ron asked carefully.

Harry laughed, but even he could hear how wrong the laugh sounded. “No, apparently that’s impossible,” Harry said, gulping down more of the whiskey. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot!”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, confused. “What happened?”

“I imagined the whole thing,” Harry said, voice breaking. “The whole fucking relationship. It’s – I’m just – he sees me as a fuck friend.”

The admission took more from Harry than he’d thought. Bringing the pain of it crashing back onto him, mixed in with the horrible embarrassment that he could have been _so_ fucking stupid. The potion Ron had given him might not have sobered him up entirely, but it had sobered him up too much. Harry uncapped the bottle again and started chugging it down, he needed to be too drunk to think again. 

“What?” Ron said, taking the bottle from Harry. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Trust me,” Harry said, grabbing another bottle off the table. “I’m sure. He told me so himself after I walked in on him with Canada’s dick up his arse.”

“That’s -” Ron said, lost for words. “I’ll bloody kill him!”

“No, you won’t,” Harry said, suddenly angry, “I fucking love him.” Remembering that made Harry’s eyes water, and he emptied the glass he’d just poured. 

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding so gentle Harry wanted to kill himself, “you left him, right?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Harry said. He busied himself refilling his glass, not looking at his friend. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t realised his relationship wasn’t a fucking relationship after all, but he felt even worse admitting to Ron that he was going to keep it up either way. 

“But, if he doesn’t feel the same way -,” Ron started. 

Harry interrupted him. “I don’t care. I want him Ron, and I’ll have him as long as he lets me.”

At this Ron took a swig from the bottle he’d confiscated off Harry. “You need to move on, find someone who bloody deserves you,” he said, setting the bottle down.

“I don’t want to move on,” Harry admitted, “and I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

Harry emptied his glass again. “It’s fine,” he said, knowing it wasn’t. “I was an idiot and I misunderstood. We’ll just, keep doing what we’re doing. It’s fine.” Harry suspected he was trying to reassure himself more than Ron, but it didn’t really matter. He grabbed one of the full bottles of the table and attempted to stand up.

“I’m gonna go home,” he said, after the room stopped spinning. 

“Please stay,” Ron said, “you shouldn’t – this isn’t something you have to deal with alone.”

“It’s fine,” Harry lied, feeling numb all over “I’m good at being alone.”

* * *

Waking up the next morning was torture. The first thing Harry noticed was the pounding of his head, and then the unbearable dryness of his throat. The worst part though, was when the memories of the previous day sunk in. Taking a deep breath Harry sat up in bed, it was Monday and he was late for work.

“I’m fine,” he told himself, getting off the bed and grabbing a change of clothes. 

“I’m fine,” he told himself again in the shower, after noticing the bruises littering his skin from the last time he’d had sex with Draco.

“It’s fucking fine,” he told the hangover potion before swallowing it down. It made him feel marginally better, but Harry was thankful he didn’t have any appointments outside the office today. 

He regretted going to work the minute he apparated in and saw the look on Pansy’s face. “I’m fine,” he told her, heading for his desk.

“Draco told me what happened last night,” she said. Harry’s heart stopped, what was she trying to say? Had she known their relationship wasn’t a relationship? She must have, Harry thought, feeling irrationally mad that she hadn’t _told_ him. 

“Did he?” Harry said, trying to find a somewhat neutral tone.

“I didn’t know,” Pansy said, studying Harry closely. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing you didn’t either.”

“Didn’t know what?” Harry said. Didn’t know that Draco was getting Canadian dick, or that he was getting dick at all?

“I thought you were together,” she said, “dating, partners, boyfriends – whatever you want to call it.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Harry said, not wanting to admit he’d thought so too. Pansy was Draco’s friend too after all. 

“You thought so too, didn’t you?” she asked, “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Harry panicked. Pansy fucking knew, it was obvious just from the sympathy in her voice. “Don’t tell him,” Harry begged.

“Tell him what?” Pansy asked. Harry wasn’t sure if she genuinely wondered, or just wanted her suspicions confirmed. 

“That I thought I was his boyfriend, that I had no idea he’s been off fucking other people this entire time, that I love him,” Harry said, desperately, “All of it. Any of it. Don’t tell him, please.”

“Why?” Pansy asked, making Harry want to run away from the pity he felt oozing off her in waves.

“Because then I’ll lose him,” Harry said, knowing it was the truth. “Draco doesn’t want that with me. If he knows I do I’ll lose him.” 

“Maybe he deserves to lose you,” Pansy said, anger mixing with the pity Harry hated so much. 

“Please,” Harry said, pleading with his eyes. He didn’t care about who deserved what. He cared about keeping Draco, and whatever was left of his dignity. 

“Fine,” Pansy said, “But I’m doing this as a favour to you. Not because I think it’s right. And definitely not because of Draco.” The anger in the last few words were so strong it shocked Harry.

“Don’t be mad at him,” he said, terrified that he was coming between the two childhood friends. 

“I’ll be mad at whomever I like,” Pansy said, “right now it’s Draco, he isn’t being fair to you.”

“It’s my fault for assuming,” Harry explained, not understanding. 

“No, it isn’t!” She said. “At best, he’s led you on for almost half a year, at worst he’s cheated.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Harry said. The word was starting to lose meaning to him at this point, but it was the best one he had.

“No, it’s not, and neither are you,” Pansy said, “I’ll keep my word, but for what it’s worth I think you deserve better.” The look on her face was so fierce Harry knew he had become one of the lucky few to be in the Slytherin’s inner circle. 

Harry hated how his personal problems infected his work day. Pansy tried her best to be understanding and accepting of Harry’s mood, but Harry hated that he couldn’t just pull himself together. After they’d passed lunch Harry stopped being depressed about the previous day, and instead started feeling nervous about that evening. He was supposed to meet up with Draco right after work, and he had no idea how he’d manage it. Of course, because Harry was begging for time to just stop moving it passed in an instant. One second Harry was having lunch, the next Draco was coming over to look at the renovations progress.

“Hi Harry,” Draco said, entering the office while Harry was bent over some papers he was desperately trying to understand. Harry froze, then forced himself to look up.

“Hi,” he said, finding it easier to smile once he was face to face with Draco. No matter how horrible Harry was feeling, seeing Draco always made it better, apparently. “Is it really four already?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Four thirty, actually,” Draco admitted, “I’m late.” He leaned down to give Harry a soft kiss from across Harry’s desk. Harry leant into it, the kiss felt so good. A lot like Harry imagined coming home would have felt, if he hadn’t grown up hating his home.

Harry tried for a laugh after breaking the kiss. “I guess we’re both workaholics then,” he said, smiling up at his not-boyfriend.

“It’s a terrible disease,” Draco said, putting on his most serious face, “we really shouldn’t make jokes.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Secretly though, he was feeling incredibly grateful at how easy it was, to just – go back to how things where. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Draco said, ruining Harry’s feelings of relief. Of course it couldn’t just be simple. 

“It’s fine,” Harry said, automatically. 

“It’s really not,” Draco said, rubbing his neck. “You’ve been really discreet, and I want to show you the same respect.”

It’s easy to be discreet when you’re not _actually_ sleeping with anyone else, Harry thought. “I was just having a bad day already,” he said.

“Did something happen?” Draco asked, sounding worried. Harry decided to let himself believe he actually was, that Draco cared. He’d rather deal with the pain later, when he had to face the fact that he didn’t.

“No, I just – I get them sometimes,” Harry said, and it was true. He did have bad days, days that sometimes stretched to weeks of him feeling unable to leave his house, because the world felt too big and he felt too small. 

“I didn’t know,” Draco said, looking concerned. Maybe he really was, Harry hoped. Sure, Draco didn’t care enough to want to really be with Harry, but maybe he did care. Like one would care for a friend. 

Harry thought back, realising he hadn’t had a single one of ‘those days’ since he’d started dating Draco. Not really dating, as it had turned out, but still. Harry hadn’t gone that long since he could remember. 

“Yeah, I haven’t had them in a while. It just kind of happens randomly,” Harry said, because that – at least – was the way it used to be. “That’s why I came over to cancel the meeting too, I just – wasn’t up to dealing with work.”

“Well I hope you’re feeling better today,” Draco said, “and Pansy walked me through what I needed to know, so no worries about the meeting.”

“I am feeling better,” Harry said, realising it was true. Just seeing Draco, really feeling the fact that he wasn’t gone made everything easier to deal with. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Draco’s warm hand in his own felt like a blessing as Harry apparated them both to his flat. He wanted those hands all over him, claiming him again. He wanted to feel the warmth spreading to his bones. For once, he didn’t want it rough and fast. Harry wanted it slow, wanted to feel and treasure every part of it.

Draco reached for Harry’s jeans, but Harry stopped him. “Take me to bed first?” he asked, holding Draco’s hand in his own. 

“Yes,” Draco agreed, taking hold of Harry’s hand and leading the way. Harry didn’t protest the fact that he knew the way to his own bedroom perfectly well, he just relished in the warmth of Draco’s hand and the promise of what they were about to do. Draco may not love Harry, but he did want him. At least like this, Harry had him. 

In the bedroom, Harry allowed Draco to undress them both, but he stopped the hand going for his crotch, moving it to his hair instead. Draco seemed to understand somehow, and didn’t make a move for anything too sensitive, instead placing both hands in Harry’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss. It felt warm, and more intimate than even fucking. Harry wanted it to go on forever. He could feel Draco’s erection against his belly, and his own pressing into Draco’s thigh, but neither of them were moving their hips yet. Harry reached up, crossing his hands behind Draco’s neck, holding him in place. The kiss was softer and sweeter than anything they’d shared before, and Harry could feel the warmth of it pouring into him, melting his bones. 

In a way, the kiss had the same effect as being dominated. It left Harry unable to think anything logical, forcing him to just _be_ and feel. He barely noticed Draco’s hands leaving his hair, moving to actually lift him from the floor without breaking the kiss. Draco lay him gently on the bed, and Harry could feel the warm weight as Draco laid down on top of him. 

When the slick finger entered him, Harry broke the kiss to gasp for breath. Draco moved his attention to Harry’s neck, kissing and licking, but never more. It was so gentle Harry thought he might break. When they’d had sex before it had always been at least a little rough, and it made Harry feel like he could take anything. This though, was so soft, so gentle, Harry felt as if he was made of glass. Like he might shatter at any moment, but it wouldn’t matter, because even if he did Draco would be there to hold him together. 

Draco took his time preparing Harry, one finger becoming two and then three before he even touched his own straining cock. When he entered Harry, they both let out a groan of pleasure and relief. They were so close, and Draco was so warm, Harry could no longer tell where he ended and Draco began. Harry forced his eyes open, despite his pleasure and contentedness wanting him to keep them closed. Draco was right above him, eyes closed. His hair was hanging off his face, almost long enough to tickle Harry’s nose. The blond was biting his lip, breathing heavily as he moved in slow and steady strokes. It was so excruciatingly good. Perfectly slow and caring, and not _enough_ for either of them to come. 

Harry realised there wasn’t a risk of him shattering, because Draco was melting him. Second by second, kiss by kiss. Harry felt like the danger was actually that he would melt into the body above him, and disappear completely into him. 

“Please” he whispered, when he couldn’t take it anymore. When it was so good it hurt, so intimate he felt like it was actually _real_. 

Draco sped up then, fucking Harry in determined strokes, reaching for his cock between them with the hand still slick from preparing Harry’s arse. Harry felt his breath leave him with every push, finding it harder and harder to draw breath between his moans and gasps. 

“Yes” he whispered as Draco’s movements became erratic. The rhythm he was fucking Harry in disappearing in favour of desperate thrusts as he came closer to orgasm. 

Harry saw the moment Draco came in his expression, as much as he felt it in the pulsing in his arse. Draco finally released the lip he’d been biting, opening his mouth in a wordless shout. His eyes opened for a short second, eyes rolling to his head. It only lasted for a short moment before it was replaced by a look of contented pleasure. 

Draco stilled his hips, but didn’t pull out, instead he resumed moving his hand on Harry’s cock. Wanking it harder and faster now. Harry’s orgasm didn’t take him by surprise this time, or knock the breath out of him. It didn’t feel like endless waves of intense pleasure, but more like a warm blanket of pure joy. It soothed parts of him he hadn’t even known were aching, until the pain there disappeared. Harry closed his eyes, trying to keep the feeling close. 

Draco pulled out of him, reaching for his wand and cleaning them both up. “We should get something to eat” he said, making Harry open his eyes again to face the other man. 

Harry suddenly felt the exhaustion of the drunken, mostly sleepless night he’d had. “Yeah, nap first though” he insisted. 

Draco rolled his eyes, but snuggled up on his pillow, wrapping his arms around Harry “Oh, alright, but just for a couple hours.”

“Thank you” Harry said. Not really knowing if he was saying thank you for the nap, the intimacy and comfort of the sex, or the warm arms keeping him close. Did it really matter if Draco didn’t feel the same way, as long as Harry could have him like this? As long as Harry could pretend? As he drifted off to sleep Harry decided he wouldn’t let it matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I appreciate any and all feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst continues. Also, this is the chapter where the "dubcon" tag becomes relevant, so please be carefull reading it.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who's read and commented, it means a lot!

_Turn down the lights. Turn down the bed. Turn down these voices inside my head. Lay down with me, tell me no lies. Just hold me close, don't patronize. Cause I can't make you love me if you don't. You can't make your heart feel something it won't. Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power, but you won't. Cause I can't make you love me if you don't. I'll close my eyes, then I won't see; the love you don't feel when you're holding me.  
Bonnie Raitt_

 

Two weeks later Harry had managed to put the whole ‘non-exclusive’ business mostly out of his mind. Sure, he worried when Draco wasn’t around, but when he was there Harry felt so complete it made up for all the times he wasn’t. Convincing himself it was real wasn’t even hard when Draco had his arms around him. Harry threw himself into his work when he couldn’t be with Draco, finding purpose and distraction in the job. It was all going very well until Harry had gone to the orphanage to get signatures on the permission forms. Only hours after Harry had left, forms in hand, he’d started sneezing, and then throwing up. 

Draco arrived at Harry’s flat just as Harry was wiping the vomit off his face, casting a freshening charm immediately. He hadn’t felt this sick in years. This felt like a terrible crossbreed of a hangover, a stomach bug, and the flu. He was really hoping Draco would be willing to make soup, as soup was all Harry wanted at the moment.

Harry cast a couple more freshening charms, just to be safe, before slowly standing up. He tried taking the Pepper Up again, hoping he’d be able to keep it down this time, before going to meet Draco. Draco usually just waited for Harry in his living room, always just assuming Harry had heard him come in. To be fair – Harry always had. 

“Hi Draco,” Harry said, voice rasping. He walked over to the sofa and immediately sat down. Standing up felt like he was standing on a boat in bad weather, not the very stable floor. 

“You’re sick?” Draco asked. Harry thought the other man looked disappointed, and Harry could understand that, really. Their fun evening had been tossed out the window, in favour of a sleepy Harry, and hopefully hot soup.

“Yeah,” Harry said, coughing into his hand. 

Draco leaned in to give Harry a kiss. “You poor thing,” he said, kissing Harry again.

Harry accepted the kisses before he suddenly felt guilty. “You’ll get sick,” he protested, trying to push Draco away. 

“I’ll take a Pepper-Up later, it’s fine,” Draco said. He was working on taking his shirt off, and Harry wondered what the hell was going on. He didn’t have to wonder long when Draco started on his belt, and then trousers. 

Harry was still staring in quiet shock when Draco fixed him with an impatient look. “You want me to vanish your clothes again?” Draco smirked. 

Harry gaped. He felt disgusting, he must have looked disgusting, and, what? Draco wanted to have sex? The thought had been so far from Harry’s mind, it hadn’t even struck him as an option. He’d been focused on warm soup. 

“Er,” Harry said, hesitating. “I’m really sick Draco.”

“I told you I don’t mind,” Draco smiled, clearly not understanding Harry’s intention. He was down to his pants now, and was already reaching for Harry’s pyjama bottoms. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” Harry explained, feeling guilty. 

Draco looked disappointed, but reached for his trousers. “Alright, I’ll just leave then,” he said. He didn’t even sound angry, and it made Harry feel awful. He didn’t want Draco to leave, but he’d preferred Draco’s anger to this quiet – whatever it was. 

“You don’t have to go,” Harry said, trying hard not to beg Draco to stay. 

“No, it’s fine,” Draco said, pulling his trousers on. “I’ll just, er, find something else to do.”

Realisation struck Harry. Draco wasn’t leaving because he was mad, or irrationally disappointed, or anything like that. He just didn’t see the point of staying if Harry was too sick to fuck. And he wasn’t off to find something else to do, he was off to find _someone_ else. 

“I just need a shower,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. Draco leaving was one thing, him going, so obviously, to fuck someone else was entirely different. Harry felt desperate to stop him. “I just feel gross.”

Draco paused, putting his shirt back down on the sofa. “You sure?” he asked, “I don’t mind going.”

Harry knew Draco didn’t mind fucking going, that was the entire problem. “Yeah” he said, “I’ve taken a Pepper-Up, so it should kick in soon.”

Harry tried to sway as little as possible as he made his way back to the bedroom. Once there he couldn’t hold his nausea back anymore and promptly threw up his third Pepper-Up that day. “Fuck” he moaned, wiping his mouth. He really wasn’t in the mood for sex, but it was Draco. It would be fine, Harry thought. At least it would be better than being sick and alone, knowing that the man he loved was off having sex with someone else. Harry got in the shower, trying to wash off the feeling that if he wasn’t a slut before, he sure as fuck would be one after this. Pretending he wanted sex, just so he would get what he wanted wasn’t too far off from pretending to want it for money. The feeling didn’t wash off though, and neither did the pounding headache, nausea or aching in his body. 

“I’ll be in bed,” Harry called down, after he’d forced himself out of the shower. He’d only ended up feeling dirtier the longer he stayed. 

It was the first time Harry didn’t enjoy sex with Draco. He laid down on his stomach, because he didn’t want Draco to see his face, and spent the entire time trying not to vomit. It wasn’t that the sex was bad either, Harry thought, he was just too sick to enjoy anything at all. 

Draco came with a grunt, flopping down on the bed beside Harry. “Fuck, I needed that,” he said, “work was terrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry muttered, hoping he sounded half asleep and sated, not close to both crying and vomiting. 

“I should go,” Draco said, sitting up. “I need to get myself a Pepper-Up before I catch whatever you have.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, it hadn’t worked. Draco was leaving, and Harry would be all alone with his sickness and lack of sex-drive. “Yeah, I don’t want you getting sick,” Harry said, because it was the only thing he could say that wouldn’t sound like a lie. 

The sound of Draco’s disapparation seemed to linger in the room, casting an echo throughout Harry’s bedroom. Harry got up slowly, trying not to upset his stomach. He didn’t even realise he’d been crying until he realised his vision was blurring. He was strangely relieved when he was saved by his thoughts of shame and loneliness by his stomach twisting in on itself, forcing him to rush to the bathroom.

Pansy showed up half an hour later, fuming. “I knew something was up when Draco came home early,” she said, and bless her, held out a container of what looked a lot like hot soup. She proceeded to have a rage-fit about how Draco was not only a terrible not-boyfriend, but also friend. Harry just stayed under the covers, faintly smiling at his friend. It did feel good, seeing someone else being angry with Draco, because even though Harry knew he probably should be, he just couldn’t summon the feeling. And with Pansy it was safe, because she actually knew Draco. When Ron or Hermione got angry, Harry felt like he had to defend the other man. 

“Anyway,” Pansy said, taking a deep breath, visibly calming herself down, “I brought soup. Because the idiot had to steal a Pepper-Up off me before heading out, so I figured you were sick.”

Harry sighed, so Draco had gone out then. Off to find a non-diseased fuck. 

“Come downstairs, and I’ll feed it to you,” she said, still focused on the soup. 

Pansy didn’t move from where she was seated on the edge of Harry’s bed, obviously waiting for Harry to take off the covers and follow her downstairs. “Er,” Harry said, feeling awkward. “I’m actually kinda naked, would you mind just waiting downstairs?”

Pansy suddenly looked horrified. “You didn’t?” she said, in a tone that was more resigned than hopeful.

“Didn’t what?” Harry said, feigning innocence. 

“You’re so sick you’re having problems sitting straight,” Pansy said, “you’ve been working actively to not throw up since I got here. And you still slept with him? No, actually – I take that back, he still slept with you?” The look of disbelief in Pansy’s eyes mirrored what Harry had felt when he realised Draco wanted to. 

“Well, uh, yeah,” Harry admitted, finding sudden interest in his hands. 

“That’s horrible,” Pansy said, managing to sound disgusted.

Harry rubbed his neck, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, before realising how terrible that sounded. 

“Just -,” Pansy sighed, “just eat some damn soup, will you?”

Of all people, Pansy turned out to be Harry’s best support in the mess that his life had become. Ron and Hermione had no idea why Harry would choose to stay with Draco, and Harry could see the judgement in their eyes whenever he saw them. Could see them sighing in disappointment every time he showed up with a new hickey on his neck. Pansy remained determined that Harry deserved better, but she also understood. She’d seen the not-relationship develop up close, and practically been there every step of the way. She also loved Draco, and just that let her understand how Harry would too, even after everything. 

Things with Draco changed, and didn’t. On the surface, it all looked the same, but Harry was noticing the little things more. Like how he was always the one to reach out for Draco’s hand, or that Draco was always the first to turn their snogging into something more sexual. Those things all made Harry feel like he should have seen it before, that it wasn’t real. But then Harry also noticed that Draco was always the one pulling him closer, after sex, spooning Harry through the night. He noticed how Draco would casually play with Harry’s hair, or put his arm around his shoulders. Those times Harry thought he couldn’t possibly have known. 

Harry tried to make himself forget. Tried not to think about what Draco was doing when he wasn’t with Harry. Pansy usually came over those times, and Harry decided not to think about how that meant Draco had the flat all to himself, leaving him free to ruin the sofa with someone else. It was nice having the company, and it made it easier to shut his thoughts out. Harry thought he was doing alright, considering. 

When Draco was around Harry managed to convince himself it was still real, that he was loved and cared for. It always meant he crashed horribly when Draco wasn’t around, but Harry distracted himself with his work. 

June seemed to pass him by in a blur, the way time moves when you really don’t want it to. Harry wasn’t ready for July for a number of reasons; first because the renovations still hadn’t finished, making Harry worry if they would be done in time for the children’s arrival. Second, he still hadn’t solved the puzzle of rooming arrangements now that all the kids would be staying for different lengths of time. Third, and most importantly, Harry would be spending a lot more time at work. He found himself constantly worried about what, or who, Draco would be doing when Harry wasn’t around as much. As long as Harry was with Draco several days a week he was ok, because he knew that while Draco wasn’t in love with him, he didn’t want to be with anyone else either. What if Harry’s absence inspired Draco to go out and fall in love with someone? It bothered Harry more than he was willing to admit, but he couldn’t justify taking more than the weekend off each week. The staff would all be there five days a week, taking two days off, and Harry wouldn’t demand more. 

It occurred to Harry that the fact that he was dreading the summer camp, something he’d been looking forward to and working towards for months, was probably a bad thing. Especially considering the only reason he was now dreading it was the fear of losing Draco if he wasn’t available all the time. Harry would never admit it, but the time he’d been sick wasn’t the first time he’d done something he wasn’t quite up for. Harry figured it was all worth it, as long as he didn’t lose Draco, and it wasn’t like he ever felt _forced_. He was just scared, because he could feel Draco slipping away. Where he and Draco had used to spend most days together, Draco now only met up with Harry about three days a week, this meant he had four days left to meet up with other people. Harry agonised over those four days, that would soon turn to five because of the fucking camp. 

In the end, there wasn’t a choice. Harry attended the camp Monday through Friday, flooing home immediately after. Draco would usually visit him once or twice over the weekend, and Harry made sure he was always home, always available. It was well into August by the time Harry realised he hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione in over a month, and the extended Weasley family in over three. His friends still wrote him every week, inviting him to their used-to-be standing Saturday breakfast date. Harry was lucky he still saw Pansy at the camp, or he would have been completely isolated, too busy making sure he was always there when Draco called. 

Even Harry could see this wouldn’t end well. The more Draco slipped away, the harder Harry held on, and he knew that by the time Draco had had enough, there wouldn’t be anything left of Harry to rebuild. In a strange sense, Harry found it romantic, he would go to war for love, even knowing that he’d lose. 

The last day of camp was a bittersweet one. On one hand, Harry did really enjoy the time he spent with the kids, because he felt as if his existence actually had some worth. He could easily see the progress the kids had made over the last few months, and Harry had grown to really care for them all. He knew he shouldn’t have favourites, but he’d gotten especially close to Lola and Wally, whose parents were respectively an alcoholic and abusive. They were some of the few kids who’d spent their entire summer at the camp, and they both looked healthier and happier for it. Saying goodbye to them had broken Harry’s heart, and he genuinely hoped he’d see them both for the Christmas Camp. On the other hand, the work Harry did with the kids were exhausting, and getting some much-needed rest was a sweet promise. Harry also knew he’d have more time for Draco now. He really hoped things could go back to the way they had been before summer, but he knew it wasn’t realistic. In his absence, Draco had gotten closer to Mark again. From what Harry had learned from Pansy Mark was staying at the flat most nights now, and at least the ending of camp would give Harry the time to start fighting again. Fighting to keep Draco. 

It felt strange, entering his flat with his bags trailing behind him. Sure, he’d been here every weekend over the summer, but there was something _strange_ about the prospect of living here. Like the flat wasn’t really his anymore. Harry started unpacking, determined to shake the feeling and make his house a home, or whatever it was Hermione always said.

The first of September, Harry thought to himself. It had been the best day of the year for him when he attended Hogwarts. The first time in months he’d see his friends, eat a decent meal and actually feel safe. Now it just felt like an ordinary Thursday. Except, Harry thought, it really had been ages since he’d seen his friends. The thought made him feel guilty, and he figured he really should fire-call them. He didn’t think Draco would come over today, it being a weekday. 

“Weasley-Granger,” Harry called, throwing some powder in his fireplace and sticking his head through. 

“Hermione,” Ron said, the second he saw Harry’s face. “I think I’m seeing things, or is that really Harry’s face in our fireplace?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious jab at his absence. He didn’t though, figuring his friend was actually in the right to be angry this time. 

Soon after Hermione entered Harry’s field of vision as well. “No, Ron. Unless someone’s gotten their hands on polyjuice that’s actually Harry.”

“Listen-,” Harry managed, before being interrupted.

“Just come through, will you?” Ron demanded. 

Harry pulled his head back from the fireplace, sighing before walking through the flames and into his friends’ living room. 

“Bloody hell Harry, have you not been eating at that camp of yours?” Ron said, while Harry was still trying to get his balance back after the dizzying floo-trip. “I hope you’re feeding the kids better than you’re feeding yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he hadn’t seen his friends in months. He _missed_ them, but he hadn’t been aware how much until he was stood in front of them.

“Don’t be sorry,” Ron said, “just sit down, I’ll fetch you some leftovers.” 

Ron rushed from the room, leaving Harry with a silent Hermione. “I’ve made him go all ‘Molly’ again, haven’t I?” Harry asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’ve been gone since June, Harry,” Hermione said. “Honestly, what did you expect?” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, knowing it wasn’t anywhere near enough. 

“Stop apologizing,” Hermione said, sighing. “Just – he was worried sick. _I_ was worried. We all were.”

“All?” Harry asked. He wondered if he should move, because standing awkwardly in front of the fireplace seemed just, _wrong_. He didn’t feel like he had the right to just make himself at home here anymore though, and he hadn’t been invited to sit. 

“Ginny’s been asking about you, and Seamus and Dean said they haven’t seen you since Christmas. Also, there is the _real_ Molly, and Arthur. They haven’t seen you in months and months Harry.”

“Fuck,” Harry said, rubbing his face in an attempt at both hiding it and pushing back the tears that always seemed to be laying just beneath the surface these days. “I’m fucking it all up.”

“Harry -,” Hermione said, but didn’t continue. Just the soft pity in her voice told Harry all he needed though. She wanted to say it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t fucking it up, just because she felt bad for him. But she couldn’t say it, because they both knew it would be a lie. 

“Mate, sit down will you?” Ron said. He was carrying a huge plate of food, which he forced into Harry’s hands as soon as he was sitting down. He stood in front of Harry, staring at him determinedly until Harry took a bite, only then did he sit down in his armchair. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, feeling like he should repeat it so Ron could hear too. 

“Harry, I’m at a loss here,” Ron said. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend look so frustrated. “You’re just – you’re disappearing. Right in front of my eyes, and I can’t do shit to help you.”

“I know I haven’t been ‘round in ages. I’m sorry, I’ll be less busy now that camp’s over though. I’ll come over more. I’m sorry,” Harry said, tasting the lie on his tongue. He hadn’t been too busy to visit, he’d just been too scared. Scared of losing Draco, scared of his friends judging him. Scared that they’d give him sympathy for the fucked up situation, and remind him just how fucked up it was. 

“It’s not that,” Hermione said, earning nods from Ron. 

“It’s not,” he agreed. “Of course, we want you to come ‘round more, but I meant you Harry. You’re disappearing. When is the last time you went flying? Or went to the pub with friends? When is the last time you visited Teddy? Bloody hell mate, when was the last time you laughed so hard you couldn’t stop?”

Harry didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, because if he spoke his voice would betray him. He felt wrecked with guilt that he hadn’t just avoided his friends, he’d neglected Teddy. Had anyone thought to take Teddy to the beach over the summer? Andromeda couldn’t, and Harry had just – forgotten. And the laughing and flying, Harry figured it had been ages. He hadn’t really felt up to it after his illusion of a relationship shattered. 

“You’re giving him too much, Harry,” Hermione said, sadness making her look older. “You can’t keep giving him everything. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to him either.”

“Who gives a fuck about the ferret?” Ron said, sounding angry. “Just because you’ve been working on this lobby thing together doesn’t mean he’s not a little shit.”

“What he did wasn’t right” Hermione said, “but they never really talked about it, right Harry? You never spoke about being an item?”

Harry silently shook his head. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and it actually hurt a surprising amount. Yes, Harry blamed himself for not realising there was no relationship. But it had helped that his friends had thought the same as him. That Pansy too had thought they were together for real, that Ron and Hermione had taken his side, even when he couldn’t. Hermione had gotten to know Draco now though, and she was seeing the truth. Draco hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t broken any agreement. 

“What does that matter? Actions speak a lot louder than words is what you’re always saying.” Ron said.

“Because Harry doesn’t _exactly_ have a track record of wanting a relationship,” Hermione said. “I’m not blaming you Harry, but how was Draco to know that’s what you wanted when you’ve never told him?”

“I know I fucked up,” Harry said, deciding to focus on his food instead of facing his friend. “And it’s too late now anyways, he doesn’t want that with me.”

“I know,” Hermione said. She sounded so sure Harry felt Draco must have told her, that they’d spoken about him, the thought made him sick. Hermione turned to Ron again. “But that isn’t really Draco’s fault either, is it? I mean, you can’t force him into loving someone.”

“He should break it off then,” Ron said, “it’s not fair what he’s doing. Keeping Harry on like some sort of back-up plan when Harry loves the git.”

“But don’t you see?” Hermione demanded. “Draco doesn’t know that. He thinks this is just casual for Harry too.”

Harry did appreciate Hermione defending Draco, because he knew what she was saying was true. If Draco knew how Harry felt he would break it off, he wouldn’t let Harry give him his life when he didn’t want to give anything back. It still hurt though, because a part of him Harry hadn’t realised existed had so appreciated that his friends had managed to think better of Harry. Even if it had been at Draco’s cost. 

“He’d break it off,” Harry said, “if he knew how I feel, he’d break it off.”

“Still,” Ron said, “how does that make what Harry is doing unfair to _him_. Harry’s unfair to himself, yeah, but not with ferretface.”

“How is it fair to place the responsibility of not only your happiness, but just general well-being on another person?” Hermione demanded, scowling at Ron. 

“The bloody git doesn’t even know,” Ron almost shouted. “And what the fuck does it matter what’s fair to him?”

Harry wanted to disappear, even though Ron and Hermione seemed to have forgotten he was present, too caught up in their anger at each other. Harry didn’t want his friends fighting over his own stupidity. And he didn’t want to hear what Hermione was saying. 

“And what happens when he finds out?” Hermione demanded. “What if Draco breaks it off, and learns Harry killed himself the next day because he couldn’t live without him anymore? What if he learns Harry’s been miserable for months, saying yes to sex even when he isn’t in the mood, avoiding his friends, all to keep Draco around? How do you think he’ll feel then?”

Harry wanted to scream. He’d never told Ron or Hermione about the sex thing. The only one who’d known anything about that was Pansy, and only because she’d arrived while Harry was still naked that time he’d been sick. Had Hermione talked with Pansy as well?

“Harry would never do that!” Ron shouted. Rising from his seat in the armchair to pace the room. “And I don’t _care_ if Malfoy gets his little feelings hurt. I care about our friend, Harry, remember him?”

“Harry wouldn’t what?” Hermione said, “Pretend he wants to be fucked when he doesn’t? He already has! And kill himself? Honestly – at this point I wouldn’t be surprised. You said it yourself, he’s disappearing in front of our eyes!”

Ron looked ill at that, but it didn’t appear to diminish his anger. 

“And you think the best way to help him is what? Start caring more about Malfoy’s feelings? What the hell is wrong with you?” Ron demanded of his wife. 

“Please stop,” Harry said, the words coming out more as a whisper than anything else. Neither of his friends seemed to notice. 

“Yes, I care about Draco’s feelings. I care about them both! Because unlike you I’m not a hateful person that’s incapable of realising there is more than one side to every story!” Hermione said, and her voice sounded so cold it made Harry shudder. 

Harry saw Ron open his mouth, no doubt to throw an insult back at his wife. “Stop it!” he shouted, desperate to make his friends stop. His friends turned to him with huge eyes, as if only just remembering he was actually present. 

“I know, alright?” Harry told Hermione, “I know it’s not fair to him. But it doesn’t matter, because he will _never_ know, ever.”

Harry hated himself now more than ever, he managed to ruin everything he touched. Not only was he fucking himself over, but he was ruining his friends’ marriage to top it all off. If Draco ever found out the things Harry was hiding, it would break him. Pansy was being torn between him and Draco, and Teddy probably hadn’t seen a beach all summer. And Harry was angry too, because Hermione had taken the liberty to speak with both Draco and Pansy about him, digging around for his deepest thoughts. Harry had trusted Pansy to keep his secrets, but she’d told Hermione about the sex thing, and Harry just felt betrayed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning from his friends. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll go.”

“Harry, don’t,” Hermione said, taking hold of Harry’s arm. 

“Let go of me,” Harry demanded. He didn’t want to show his friend he was angry, because it was probably irrational. She’d worried, so she’d gone where she could for information. It wasn’t like Harry had been around to ask. The knowledge only made Harry angrier, though it was mostly with himself now. 

“Please,” Hermione said, still gripping him hard. 

“I’m not going to fucking off myself, alright? I just don’t want to be here,” Harry said, tearing his arm free. Before anyone else could grab him Harry apparated home, raising his wards and closing off his floo. 

He was better off alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the wonderfull people who've left comments so far; THANK YOU! It means so much to read your opinions of this fic! Here's the next chapter a few days early. The rest of the fic is done now, so it's just a matter of figuring out when to post it, feel free to hit me with ideas on that.

_Spend my days locked in a haze  
Trying to forget you babe  
I fall back down  
Gotta stay high all my life  
To forget I'm missing you_

_Tove Lo_

Harry took conscious effort to avoid Ron and Hermione after that. They’d eventually started sending their owls to his job, realising the letters never arrived if they tried sending them to his home. Harry hadn’t opened any of them though. He broke everything he was close to, so he’d stay away. That, and he wasn’t going to change what he was doing. He’d keep seeing Draco as much as he could, he’d keep stealing those short moments of bliss for as long as it would last. Hermione and Ron would keep hating him for it, so Harry stayed away. 

Work had stopped being a sanctuary after Harry realised his every move would probably be reported back to Hermione. Harry still went, still spoke with Pansy about anything work-related, but he refused to say anything more. Refused Pansy’s daily invitations to go to London for lunch. Refused the leftovers she’d bring him back every time. 

The only thing that was safe was Draco, the few moments Harry had with him. He’d been right to think it wouldn’t go back to normal again, but his hopes had been crushed when it had gotten even worse. Instead of seeing Draco at least once every weekend, Harry had only seen Draco four times in the two months that had passed since the camp was over. Harry had held a strange hope that Draco would be there on Halloween, the anniversary of Harry’s parents’ death. He hadn’t shown though, and Harry had spent the evening alone with a bottle of vodka. 

The first week of November brought with it a terrible cold, with a wind that wrapped around Harry and kept him permanently chilled, even when indoors. It also brought Draco who showed up that weekend, fucking Harry with a hunger Harry hadn’t felt in the other man since before summer. 

Harry lay on his stomach, allowing himself to linger in the post orgasmic bliss. This was always the best part, he thought. When he felt sated and wonderful, and cared for. Draco was stroking his back, humming a little to himself. Harry wanted the moment to last forever. 

“This was the last time,” Draco said, still stroking Harry’s back. 

Harry stopped breathing, turning around to stare at Draco. “What?”

“We can’t do this anymore,” Draco said, gesturing to their naked bodies. 

“Why?” Harry managed. He felt like someone was squeezing his lungs, preventing him from taking a real breath.

“Because I’m done fucking around. I want a real relationship, I want to start building my future,” Draco said, sounding angry. “I’m going to give this thing with Mark a real shot.”

“Right,” Harry said. He got of the bed, he needed his clothes. He felt too exposed, like a raw nerve. “Enjoy your relationship with the guy who’s already dumped you once, that will be great, I’m sure.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” Draco demanded. He got out of the bed too, pulling on his trousers. “It’s not like I can get what I want from _you_.”

Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head, not feeling any less naked despite being dressed. “Fuck you Draco,” Harry said. He was angry, and he grabbed onto the anger with all he had. He knew that if he wasn’t angry he would break, and he refused to break in front of Draco. He was about to lose everything, he could at least do so with some dignity left. 

“Mark though, really?” Harry said, “he has to be the most boring piece of shit to ever grace the earth with his presence.”

“How did you think this was going to end?” Draco said, glaring daggers at Harry. “I can’t just keep fucking around forever, because unlike you I’m not a bloody whore!”

Harry felt like Draco had just shot him in the chest. There it was, the truth, finally. “No of course not,” Harry laughed, sounding hysterical even in his own ears. “You wouldn’t want the dirty whore stinking up your future.”

“Harry, I didn’t -.”

“Yes, you did,” Harry interrupted. “I think you’ve finally said what you mean. I have to admit the truth is really fucking refreshing coming from you.”

“Fine! I fucking meant it, ok? How many people have you fucked now? You must be well into the hundreds at this point,” Draco shouted, tearing at his hair. Harry felt distant from the whole situation, it was too absurd, too painful.

“Get the fuck out of my flat,” he said, “I’ve a goal to reach 200 before Christmas, so I’ve got people coming over for an orgy.” Harry didn’t even know why he’d make such a ridiculous joke, but it all felt ridiculous. He’d been faithful to Draco for over ten months, not even thinking about anyone else, while Draco was off fucking anyone and their brother. Now Draco was accusing him of being the whore. It hurt, both because it was so fucking unfair, but also because it felt true. Harry couldn’t deal with the pain, and it wasn’t difficult to summon the endless emptiness he’d developed. He let it embrace him, protect him. Fuck feelings, and fuck Draco.

“Fuck you Harry,” Draco said, grabbing his wand and t-shirt. He was going to leave. He was leaving and Harry would never be whole again. 

“You already did,” Harry said, feeling suddenly terrified. Even the emptiness couldn’t protect him from this. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was his soul being torn to pieces. 

“Yeah, me and the rest of the world,” Draco said, and apparated away. 

Harry fell to the floor right where he stood. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He wanted to cry, but there was nothing. Nothing but the knowledge that he’d just been broken, shattered, and that he’d spend the rest of his life loving someone who hated him. Draco had called Harry a slut in bed, but it had been affectionate, approving. Having the word twisted, shouted at him now was more painful than Harry had imagined it would be. ‘Whore, whore, whore’ echoed in his brain. He was still on the floor when Pansy found him the next morning. He didn’t think he’d slept, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing felt real anymore.

“Harry, shit, are you ok?” Pansy rushed into the room, kneeling next to Harry.

Harry continued to stare at the sock Draco had left behind in his hurry. He thought he’d been staring at it for hours. 

“Hang on, I’m getting Ron and Hermione,” Pansy said, dashing out of the room as fast as she’d entered. 

Harry didn’t want his friends to see him like this. He had to get up. Life would keep spinning no matter how much Harry needed it to slow down, and Harry had no choice but to spin with it. He couldn’t get out even if he wanted to. Harry had run into situations with no hope before, relying only on his bravery and his friends. He would do it again. He would get up, if he couldn’t do anything he could at least do that. He’d fought and he’d lost, and now he had to live with it. He wouldn’t poison his friends with his own uselessness. 

Harry was still on the floor when Pansy returned, but when she held out a hand for him, Harry took it, and Harry thought that had to be enough. Maybe he couldn’t do it on his own, but then, he wasn’t alone, was he? Pansy led him downstairs and installed him on the sofa, and it wasn’t long before Ron and Hermione arrived, despite the fact they should both be at work. Harry was so grateful to his friends, but his head was too heavy to move, to empty to think.

For a terrifying moment, the silence wrapped around them in a choking fog, nobody knowing what they should say. To everyone’s surprise Ron was the one to break it. 

“Harry, I know you think you’ve lost everything. I know it feels like Malfoy walked away and took everything with him, everything good you felt when he was around. Just, please, remember that it was you feeling those things. The happiness, the love, the freedom and safety; it was all you mate. You’ll feel it again even though he’s left,” Ron said, bringing tears to Hermione’s eyes. 

Harry thought he might have cried too, if he wasn’t so empty, if he could feel the words Ron said, or even if they felt true. What struck him though, was that he hadn’t said a single word to either of them, but still they all knew. There was only one thing that could leave Harry this broken.

“I didn’t feel those things though,” Harry said, voice coming out hoarse and shaky. “Not before I had him.”

“That’s the problem then,” Hermione said, “you let him determine everything. Your mood, even wellbeing, was all dependant on how your relationship with Draco was doing. I don’t know when it happened, but I think at some point you let what Draco thought of you become the thoughts you have of yourself.”

She was right in a way, Harry thought, only when he’d first been with Draco being like that had felt so good. Harry had been able to let go of all the guilt left over from the war, and all the insecurities he had, mostly as a result of his childhood. He didn’t feel like a freak, because how could he be a freak if Draco liked him? 

But Draco didn’t like him, Draco thought Harry was a disgusting whore. 

“It _hurts_ ,” Harry said, feeling pathetic. “How do I make it stop?”

“You give it time,” Hermione said. Sounding so fucking sure of herself it pissed Harry off. How would she even know? The love of her life was standing there, right next to her, hopelessly in love with her. She couldn’t possibly know. 

“Time won’t do shit,” Harry said. Alcohol might though, he thought, and summoned a bottle from the kitchen. 

“Harry, I know it doesn’t feel like -,” Hermione started.

Harry interrupted her, “so if Ron said he didn’t love you after all, that he never had, and that he found you disgusting,” Harry paused, voice breaking. “If he left you, you’d just ‘need time’ is that it?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, still sounding sure. 

“Bullshit,” Harry said, deciding that alcohol would definitely help more than this. “You love Ron, you couldn’t live without him.”

Harry summoned a glass as well, deciding he’d go for one of the bigger ones that were made for water. He couldn’t be bothered refilling it all the fucking time, and he had every intention of getting drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember anything at all. 

“I love Ron,” Hermione said, “and I don’t _want_ to live without him, but Harry, I _can_.”

Great, Harry thought, not only was he a whore and a freak, he was one with attachment issues. “That’s great for you Hermione. Unfortunately, I’m not like that,” Harry said, anger rising. “It’s good to know I’m not dealing with this the right way though. Thank you for that.”

“Harry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione said. Her eyes were shining with tears, but it just made Harry feel even more furious.

“Well what did you mean then?” He said, “because it sounds to me like you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. Tell me, have you ever been convinced nobody loved you? That you were just some freak that wasn’t worthy of it? Because that was my fucking life until I had Draco. For the first time, I felt like maybe I was worth loving, but then it all went to shit and I realised I was wrong.” Harry tried to stop himself. He didn’t want to spill his guts out and leave them laying on the floor for everyone to see, but for some reason he wasn’t able to stop talking now that he’d started. “I had to learn to live with that again, to accept that I wasn’t someone who deserved love. But I thought, maybe I could deserve something close to it, parts of it, and I was wrong again. So no, I can’t live without him. I know I have to, but I fucking can’t.”

Hermione was crying in full now, and she made no attempt to hide the tears. “Harry, you know we love you.”

“Well don’t!” Harry said, lashing out. “I don’t fucking deserve it.”

Pansy had been quiet this whole time, and Harry turned on her, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach that she was there. “What the fuck are you even doing here?” he demanded. 

“We’re friends,” Pansy said, as if it was obvious. “You’re hurting, and I can’t make that go away, but I can damned well be here with you while you do it.”

“You’re Draco’s friend,” Harry said, “you don’t have to keep hanging around me now that he’s stopped.”

“I have never in my life done anything because I have to, and I’m not about to start,” Pansy said, sounding as angry as Harry was. “I’m here because I want to be, and I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

Harry hated himself, he decided, as he looked away from his friends and to the glass of whisky he’d almost finished already. He didn’t want to lash out, he didn’t want them to go. He knew he needed them, but a treacherous part of his brain that was usually at a whisper was shouting at him that they didn’t really care. Didn’t really love him. They might have thought they did, but it was all because Harry had never, truly, showed them how unworthy he was off that love. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said, sitting down and summoning himself a glass. “It’s shit right now, and there isn’t a point to us standing here trying to convince you to feel better. We’ll just let it be shit for a while yeah?”

It was the best thing he could have said, Harry thought, pouring his friend a drink and refilling his own. He wasn’t capable of feeling better, and hearing he should only made him feel guilty on top of it all. He just needed some fucking space to be miserable. 

“We’ll be here when it’s shitty, and when you’re ready to build yourself back up we’ll be here to help,” Pansy said, taking a swing from the bottle. 

Harry wasn’t ready to build himself up. Not the next day, not the next week, and not the next month. He didn’t think he could. He’d stupidly let all of the glue that held him together dissolve when he found Draco, thinking the other man would be enough. Whenever Harry tried putting himself back together now, he found that he wasn’t only broken, but vital pieces were missing entirely. There wasn’t anything to rebuild. The alcohol was a blessing and a curse. In a way it helped, it let him numb the raw broken edges that was all Harry was made up of, but it also pushed everything and everyone else away. Hermione, Ron and Pansy kept stopping by, trying to help, but Harry wasn’t in a mind to receive it, and eventually he started going out just to avoid them. He knew it was bad, knew he was only making everything worse for himself in the long run, but he felt incapable of snapping out of it. 

The first time Harry got so drunk he actually blacked out was also the first time he had sex with someone other than Draco. He woke up, head pounding, having only a fuzzy memory of going out the night before. When he’d opened his eyes, he’d seen an unfamiliar room, and an unfamiliar man. They’d both been naked, which, coupled with the soreness Harry felt, told him what had happened the night before. In a way it felt fitting, Harry thought, if Draco didn’t want him for being a whore, then Harry should damned well be one. Maybe that way it wouldn’t hurt as much. It was a ridiculous idea, and Harry knew it, but that didn’t stop him from accepting every advance someone made on him. If someone wanted him, they could have him. At least that way Harry was worth _something_ for a night, even if it was just being a warm body for someone to fuck.

Halfway through December Harry realised he hadn’t been fully sober for a month, and he hadn’t been at work since Draco dumped him. Pansy hadn’t complained about it once, but Harry felt guilty. Christmas Camp was only a week away, and Pansy was dealing with it all by herself. It wasn’t fair to her, Harry thought, he’d made a commitment to the Second Home organisation, and it shouldn’t have to fall apart just because he was. Harry poured his glass down the sink then, deciding he was bloody well going to make it to work the next day. And so, without even realising it, Harry glued the first pieces of his broken soul back together. 

After that night, Harry made it to work most days. He still got drunk almost every day, but he restricted the sex with strangers to the weekends, and he limited his drinking on the weekdays enough that he could make it to work the next day. He declined working at the actual camp for Christmas though, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep it together long enough. At least not without alcohol. The kids needed a safe place, and Harry knew he wasn’t safe. Instead he spent Christmas alone in his flat, refusing any and all invitations. That didn’t stop his friends from stocking his fridge with various home-cooked meals. Harry recognised Ron’s lasagne, Molly’s roast, Dean’s Christmas pudding and something French and fancy he was sure Pansy had bought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to the amazing people in the comments! Your comments mean the world to me! I've struggled a lot with how to end the story, and I was originally going to leave it at this chapter. I've decided to add one more though, and I'll try to have that up tomorrow.

_I was swallowed up in my despair  
A pain I've never known  
Oh I'm sinking but  
I'm not made of stone_

_Now hold on to hope  
I'm not alone  
Kate Voegle_

 

Hermione had been wrong after all, Harry thought. It wasn’t time that would heal him. Or that had done the healing he’d already managed. It was friendship. It was the fact that for the three months straight Harry had been drunk off his arse, his fridge had always been filled with food. It was that when Harry finally showed up for Sunday brunch at the Burrow, after being gone for a full year, he’d been accepted without question. It was the days Pansy had sat with him, just being there so Harry wouldn’t be miserable alone. It was the times Ron, George, Ginny, Blaise, Dean and Seamus had showed up demanding Harry join them for a game of Quidditch. 

By the time spring rolled around Harry had realised that while he still loved and missed Draco, he had more in his life than just the other man. He had more worth than just being whatever he could for Draco. The second Easter camp had been motivation for Harry to get sober, and he’d managed it. The week at camp had felt like a victory and a confirmation of his worth as a person. And it wasn’t just because of the things he could do for the kids, it was just because Harry was Harry. The response when he returned after being away for the Christmas camp had been huge, and Harry realised the kids had actually missed _him_ , not just a safe adult. 

He’d relapsed a few times after the camp, and he didn’t think he had it in him to be fully functional for the entirety of the summer camp. That was how he found himself spending the last two weeks of July in Crete with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Blaise. He’d go back to the camp for the last three weeks of August, but he’d allowed himself a three-week holiday in the middle. Two weeks lying on the beach and just – being. And one week to spend with Teddy. 

“You know, I really thought I would feel like more of a third wheel on this trip” Harry said to Hermione who was lounging on the sun-bed next to him. Ginny, Blaise and Ron had decided to go for a swim, but Harry found the warmth of the sun on his skin too delicious to cool down just yet. Hermione, to no-one’s surprise, had decided to stay with her books. 

“Well, Pansy and Neville are joining us for the last week. They’re both single,” Hermione said, nose still in her book.

“Yeah, I know. I meant I don’t really feel like the third wheel,” Harry said. “You’re really good at that; making me feel included.”

“What are you on about?” Hermione asked, actually looking up from the book she’d been lost in for the last few hours. “You _are_ included, it’s not like we’re pretending to make you feel that way.”

Harry didn’t really know what to say to that. Hermione and Ron had both become very good at noticing when Harry said something that reflected the thoughts he had that he wasn’t _really_ good enough, or that he didn’t _really_ belong. They caught him at it almost every time he did it lately. They even noticed when Harry didn’t himself.

“Yeah, no, I mean – I know we’re all friends. But you and Ron, and Ginny and Blaise, are couples too. It’s different.”

“That doesn’t mean we love you any less,” Hermione said, closing her book. “It’s a different kind of love, sure, but you’re family Harry.”

Harry smiled at his friend, glad for the sunglasses that hid his watery eyes. He did know that his friends loved him, they’d shown it time and again, but it always made him feel strange to hear it. Like he wanted to just lie down in the warmth of it and never get back up, and also like he wanted to argue that no, actually, he didn’t deserve that love. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been since – er, well since I’ve been single,” Harry said, thinking of how he’d gotten shitfaced the first day of their holiday, after keeping it together so long for the kids. It hadn’t been the only time his friends had helped him to bed, stroking his back as he puked, or listened to him cry or rage about something. 

“It’s alright Harry, really, we don’t mind being there for you,” Hermione said. “I just worry, you know? I feel like you’re in a lot of pain. More than you’re showing.”

She was right, Harry thought. He was doing a lot better, but things were still hard. And not just because he’d lost Draco. Harry still missed him, sometimes so much he couldn’t breathe, but he’d realised it went deeper than that. He’d been doing alright before Draco, but it wasn’t Draco that had broken him. It was more that Harry had refused to commit to life before that. He’d avoided jobs, making new friends, relationships and responsibilities of any kind, and that had helped hide the problem. He’d jumped back into everything all at once, and it had been great, until he realised he didn’t know where he ended and everything else began. 

“I lost you to your thoughts again,” Hermione said, placing a warm hand on Harry’s. 

“Sorry,” Harry smiled, “I was just thinking how little sense my brain makes.”

Hermione was probably rolling her eyes at Harry only realising this now, but her sunglasses saved Harry from seeing it. “How so?” she asked. 

“Well, I mean. Those last few months, with Draco,” Harry said, “I gave up everything. I stopped meeting you, Ron, Pansy and everyone else. I stopped enjoying my work, I couldn’t do anything I enjoyed because I didn’t enjoy things anymore. And it was all because I was so afraid of losing him. Because I thought I needed him to be happy, but I wasn’t even happy when I had him.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “I mean, I didn’t see you much at that time, but you were miserable.”

“I felt like if I lost him, I’d lose everything else too,” Harry admitted. “And I did lose it there, for a while, but I don’t think it was because I lost him, I think it was because I lost myself.”

“Harry, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Hermione said, wiping a tear from beneath her sunglasses. “You lost yourself there, but you’re coming back to us now, and that means you _can_ be happy, even without Draco.” 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, hating how pessimistic he sounded. “I mean, I am better. I enjoy being with you, and the others, and I like my work. I’m not -,” he sighed, not wanting to admit it out loud. “I’m not really happy though. It’s not the soul-crushing emptiness it was at first, but I still miss him. All the time.”

“I’m not saying you have to be totally happy on your own,” Hermione said, “I don’t think I would be. I like having a partner, someone to love in a romantic way. I’m just saying you can be happy without Draco. That you’ll love someone else.”

“Sirius told me once that every Potter in the history of magic has only ever really fallen in love with one person,” Harry said. He wanted Hermione to understand. He’d learned to live without Draco, at least almost, but he would always love the other man. He’d always miss him. 

“Yes of course that’s what they’ll all have told their partners,” Hermione said, in her dismissing tone. “I’m sure there’s no family curse.”

“I don’t think it’s a curse,” Harry said. “Just – how I’m built. I can’t just stop loving him.”

“It doesn’t feel like it now,” Hermione said, “but you will.”

The warmth of the sun seemed to have disappeared somewhere in their talk, Harry realised. He couldn’t feel the soothing effect anymore, instead it just seemed too bright. He had appreciated his friends’ belief that he’d get better. Especially when he hadn’t been able to see it himself. They refused to accept what Harry knew to be the truth though, that he’d never get over Draco. He knew it would hurt less, that he’d probably reach the level of contentment he’d had in his life before he had Draco, but he also knew the love would never ever go away. 

“I’m going to get an ice-cream or something,” Harry said, walking off the beach and over to the hotel bar right behind them. 

He’d been sober for three days now. Three days and he was craving the numbness of alcohol more than he could handle. He’d gone a lot longer without lately, but it was easier to forget about the craving when he worked. And definitely easier to find motivation not to drink. He was on holiday now, and everyone else was drinking in the middle of the day. Fuck it, Harry thought, and ordered himself a drink.

* * *

The magical portion of the airport was a mess of people shouting at their families to hurry up, suitcases being dragged or levitated across the floor and people looking for whoever they were meeting. Harry was stood near the entrance, trying to keep his head down. He didn’t particularly want to be recognised by any of the witches or wizards. He hadn’t been waiting too long, but he was still glad to see Pansy making her way towards him in a rushed walk. 

“Pansy,” Harry said, hugging his friend. “Welcome.” Harry had volunteered to go meet Pansy and Neville when they arrived by portkey. He knew they’d find the hotel on their own, but he’d wanted to see his friends as soon as possible. 

“He’s here,” Pansy whispered urgently, “I’m sorry. He decided he wanted to come, and I couldn’t talk him out of it.”

Harry froze, mid hug. There was only one person Pansy could mean when she said _he_ like that, yet that was impossible. There was no way Harry had avoided Draco for over half a year, only to have the blond gate-crash Harry’s holiday in Greece. Harry was suddenly aware of hard he was squeezing Pansy, so he let her go, looking around the portkey station for someone blond. 

Harry didn’t have to look long, as Draco and Mark appeared seconds later clutching a broken umbrella in one hand and a bag in the other. Harry was frozen to the spot, staring in shock.   
Harry had thought his heart would break again the second he saw Draco. He’d been dreading accidentally running into the other man, and, now that he saw him again, Harry realised he didn’t just feel broken, he felt furious, both with Draco and himself. 

“Breathe,” Pansy whispered, low enough that only Harry would hear. Harry took a shuddering breath, and only then realised he’d been holding it. 

“Where’s Neville?” Harry asked her, deciding to avoid the issue of Draco for as long as possible. 

“Restroom,” Pansy said, “he felt a bit ill after the Portkey.”

Mark and Draco had reached them now, Harry noticed. He refused to look away from Pansy, but he could still see the couple in his peripheral vision. “I’m not feeling too hot myself,” Mark said.

The Canadian accent grated on Harry’s nerves, Mark had been living in England for years now, but he still spoke like he wiped his arse with maple leaves. “I’ll – er – I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Harry said, deciding it was best to just avoid the situation altogether.

The journey back to their hotel was a tense one. The hotel itself was muggle, and without any safe spots for apparition, so all five of them had ended up squeezed inside a taxi that was only supposed to seat four. All Harry wanted was to retire to his room, and hide for the duration of the holiday. They already had plans though, to go eat at the Mexican restaurant across from the hotel to properly greet Pansy and Neville. Harry figured he’d just keep up his strategy of not looking at Draco at all. If he couldn’t see the man, then he could pretend he wasn’t there. 

The strategy was horribly flawed, it turned out, because not looking at someone when sharing a table at a busy restaurant was impossible. Harry had, to his relief, managed to ingest four frozen margaritas and a few tequila shots before he actually looked Draco in the eyes. Facing the man he loved, while said man was sitting next to his boyfriend, was more painful than Harry had thought it would be after all this time. For a heartbeat it felt as if nothing had changed, like Draco was still his. Then Harry felt like he had when Draco broke it off, like he was still lying on the cold floor of his bedroom with the word ‘whore’ echoing through his head. Thankfully, that feeling passed too. Or at least dulled enough that Harry was able to tear his eyes away again and pretend to focus on the conversation Pansy was having with Hermione. 

Harry didn’t speak with Draco, and Draco never tried talking to him either. All through dinner though, Harry could feel eyes burning in the side of his head, and he knew the blond was looking at him. It only got worse when they finished dessert and headed over to the closest bar. Harry was already drunk, but he accepted the drink some bloke in the bar bought him. Harry thought he might already have had sex with his friend a few days back, but he’d been too drunk at the time to fully remember. It didn’t matter much though, really. Harry hadn’t slept with anyone in a few months before their holiday, after realising it was rather self-destructive to let people fuck him just to feel wanted. When his sobriety slipped though, his self-enforced celibacy would often follow. Harry sat down next to the drink-offering bloke, and felt Draco’s eyes burning holes in his neck.

When Harry had finished the drink, and the bloke went off to get them another round Harry decided to turn around and face the staring blond. Harry half expected Draco to turn away when Harry turned and caught him staring, he didn’t though. Instead he kept the grey eyes fixed on Harry’s, and although they had been burning into his neck before they looked freezing cold now. Something changed though, the longer they looked at each other. The harsh judgement Harry had first seen changed into something even worse; pity. It made Harry want to throw up, preferably in Draco’s face. 

Billy – or Bobby, or whatever his name was came back then, shots in hand. Harry tossed his back, then grabbed the one Benny had obviously intended for himself, tossing that back too. “Where is your hotel?” Harry asked, hoping it was close. Hoping the man would want to leave with him. 

“Uhm – It’s right down there,” the man said, pointing behind the bar and towards the ocean. Harry didn’t even answer, instead he started walking, hoping B-whatever would take the hint and follow him. He determinedly avoided looking at Draco as he left, fuck the blond and his judging, pitying gaze. 

Harry felt rather pleased with himself when he found his way back to his own hotel room a couple of hours later. He usually fell asleep after sex, but he wanted privacy now, and he suspected he’d want it even more in the morning when he’d sobered up. Harry was considering whether or not he should take a shower when someone knocked on his door. Probably Ron or Hermione had come to check on him, Harry thought. He opened the door without a second thought. 

Harry stood face to face with Draco, and he was glad to find he wasn’t as speechless as he’d been earlier in the day. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Harry demanded. 

“I heard, uhm, well, I heard you’ve been sick,” Draco said, sounding awkward. “And Ron seems furious with me, and I just – I wanted to check on you.”

The anger Harry had felt in the airport came back, stronger than before. “I think you relieved yourself of worrying about me,” Harry said, “you know, when you left and never looked back.”

“I just wanted to apologise, for the things I said that day,” Draco said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “It wasn’t right, and I didn’t mean them.”

“You’re feeling guilty,” Harry said, realisation striking him hard. 

“Yes, of course I am,” Draco said, sounding genuinely upset. 

“I don’t need you coming here to relieve your fucking guilt,” Harry said, furious. 

“Well what do you need then?” Draco demanded, “I know you disappeared from work for weeks. I know you hired someone to take your spot at the Christmas Camp, even though you fucking love those kids. I know both Weasleys are giving me looks that would kill me if looks had the power. Pansy still refuses to talk to me about us. Clearly, I’ve done something wrong, so I’m here to apologize.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you,” Harry said, coldly. The part of him that was still endlessly in love with Draco ached for the other man, but the other part, the part Harry had glued and stapled together using alcohol, friends and a lot of time was furious. Harry knew it was partly irrational, that he’d allowed everything that had happened. That he’d been the one to feel things too deeply, to let his entire life hang on their – whatever it had been. But now Harry was also able to see how unfairly Draco had treated him, and how much Harry had been hurt.

“Fine,” Draco said. “Make me the bad guy, I don’t care, but stop poisoning Pansy, whom I might add is _my_ friend, with it.”

The insinuation that Pansy wasn’t his friend, that Harry was just poisoning her, hurt. It also made Harry see red. Before he’d realised he was doing it Harry was pushing Draco, trying to get him off his doorstep. It worked in a way, but as Draco fell backwards, Harry, who had pushed too hard, landed on top of him. Draco immediately pushed back, hard enough to knock the wind out of Harry. Harry felt a sudden need to _hurt_ Draco, make him feel some of the pain Harry had been feeling lately. He struck out, trying to land a punch on Draco’s perfect fucking jaw. He missed, and connected with Draco’s ear instead. Draco grabbed Harry’s wrists and turned them over, giving himself the advantage. He pulled his arm back and was about to punch Harry in the face when he realised Harry wasn’t moving. Wasn’t fighting back anymore, instead, he was crying. Draco rolled off Harry, lying down on the ground too.

“I miss you Draco, all the fucking time,” Harry admitted, deciding that he’d already hit bottom now. He had nothing left to lose, not even his dignity. “I’m so fucking miserable.”

“I miss you too,” Draco said with a soft sigh.

“Then why -,” Harry started, voice breaking, “why did you leave me?”

He could hear how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had to know why, maybe that way he could change it. He didn’t try to stop the tears as they made their way to his eyes and spilled over. It was too dark for anyone to see it either way. 

“I wanted, I needed.. I needed stability Harry. I wanted commitment, and a real fucking relationship,” Draco said, sounding almost angry.

Harry wanted to scream, or laugh, or punch something. 

“No, you fucking didn’t,” he said instead. “I _was_ committed, I thought we _had_ a relationship, and then I walk in on you with Canada’s dick up your arse.”

“Oh, like you didn’t fuck around,” Draco said.

Harry felt the distance between them growing again. They were both so angry, so hurt. But Harry was too tired to be angry, or just too drunk. 

“I didn’t,” he said, “after new year’s, until you dumped me for Canada, I didn’t. It was just you.”

“What?” Draco whispered. 

“I thought you wanted commitment, and I wanted you, so I committed. And I really fucking liked it. It felt safe, for the first time in my life. But then you didn’t want commitment, you wanted Canada, and me, and I don’t know who or what else,” Harry paused, taking a breath to steady his voice.

“But you said you were with other people too,” Draco said, sounding confused. 

“I didn’t, actually. You said I was, after the Canada thing, and I didn’t correct you.”

“Why the fuck not?” Draco said, and Harry heard him turning to his side. 

“Because I didn’t want to fucking lose you,” Harry said, hating how vulnerable he sounded. 

“Well, why didn’t you tell me that?” Draco shouted, sounding really angry.

Suddenly Harry had the energy to be angry again as well. Despite his sadness and drunkenness. “You really are a fucking dick, you know that?” he said, sitting up to stare accusingly at Draco. “I tried so fucking hard to be what you needed me to be, and all I wanted was to have you. I was so disappointed when I realized you were fucking around, but I figured it was ok, because you still wanted me. _Then_ you decide you want a steady relationship after all, and you just- you didn’t even- you just dropped me. Tossed me in the fucking rubbish-bin like a bloody sex toy you didn’t want or need anymore.” 

Harry couldn’t be sitting down anymore. He couldn’t look at the shell-shocked look on Draco’s face. Couldn’t be close enough to smell him, touch him, hit him. He pushed to his feet and started walking unsteadily back and forth. 

“I fucking love you Draco, and you just passed me over. And now you’re just lying there telling me you miss me? Saying I’m the one who didn’t want commitment?” Harry tore his hair in frustration, and immediately lost his footing, almost ending back up on the ground. “Fuck you Draco.” 

“You love me?” Draco said, standing up and facing Harry. 

“Yes! I wish to god I didn’t, but I do,” Harry said, trying to step past Draco to leave. He couldn’t do this anymore. Being away from Draco hurt, but this hurt even more. 

Harry started walking towards his door, needing to be alone. “Go home to Mark, Draco,” he said.

“I love you too,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s shoulders to stop him walking away. 

Harry took a step back instead, shaking his head. The tears that had stopped when his anger had risen were back in full, running down his cheeks unrestrained. He didn’t want to hear Draco say that. It couldn’t be true, and Harry didn’t want Draco to pity him. 

Harry wasn’t able to do anything but continue to shake his head, backing slowly away from Draco. He had to get away, he couldn’t stand this anymore. He was too drunk and too miserable, and he just hurt too much. “No,” he whispered. “No, you really don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Draco said, following Harry. “You’re right, that I didn’t. Not at first. And you’re right that I was a dick. I think I knew, at first, that it meant more to you. It just felt so good to be free that I didn’t want to think about it. I did everything right after the war, I hadn’t let myself make a single mistake, or do anything that’s slightly questionable, and then with you I felt free again. Like I didn’t have to follow any rules, or do anything a specific way, and it was brilliant. So I pretended I didn’t see that you wanted more, I told myself you had never wanted a relationship, and that you wouldn’t want one now.”

Harry listened in shock to what he was hearing. Draco really had known then, that Harry had committed, but he hadn’t cared. It didn’t matter though, none of it did. “It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “It’s done, it’s over, so let’s just – just go back to your room.”

“No,” Draco said, stepping to the side to block Harry’s exit. “I need you to hear this. I didn’t love you at first, it didn’t even occur to me that I could. I had a great time with you, and I figured that was enough. But then I started to want more, I wanted something solid, something real.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry said. He didn’t understand why Draco insisted on telling him this, because it just hurt. “You wanted a proper relationship, but you didn’t want it with me.”

“But I did! I do,” Draco said, staring at Harry with so much sincerity Harry thought Draco might actually believe it himself. “I just, by the time I realised what I wanted we were already falling apart, and I couldn’t ask you for more. Because if I did I would either have to deal with being rejected because you really did like the relationship being open, or I’d have to deal with my worst fear being confirmed.”

“Your worst fear?” Harry said, feeling lost.

“That I’d been right. That it meant more to you the entire time. That from your perspective I’d been cheating on you, and then just stringing you along. I knew that even if I had asked, and you had wanted to be with me, then I wouldn’t deserve it, because of the way I treated you.” 

Harry looked away from Draco, to study the ocean he could see from where they were stood. The waves were larger at night, he noticed. And it was easier, noticing the waves and listening to the people on the street behind them, than it was to think about what Draco was saying. 

“It’s not your fault that I stayed when I knew you didn’t want me,” Harry said, because he couldn’t stand Draco feeling guilty. At least not if it led to conversations like this. 

“It is when I knew,” Draco argued, “but I really do love you Harry.”

“For fucks sake,” Harry said, pushing Draco away when the man tried to step closer. “Are you even listening to yourself? Look around you Draco! You’re in Crete, on holiday, with your bloody boyfriend. What are you standing here talking to me for?”

Harry was surprised to see tears falling off Draco’s face. “I thought I could be happy with him, or at least content,” Draco said, “but I’m not. I miss you Harry. I love _you_.”

Harry had a sudden realisation that he wasn’t the only one that was severely fucked up. He hadn’t thought he deserved love, and so he had done everything to prove himself wrong, anything to feel like he had it. Draco too, didn’t feel as if he deserved love, and so he self-sabotaged. Whenever love was within his reach, Draco did something to back away, to fuck it up. Harry didn’t know if this, Draco telling Harry he loved him, was a way of sabotaging things with Mark or if bringing Mark had been a way of sabotaging his attempt to get Harry back. It didn’t really matter though, because Harry wasn’t doing it. 

“If you loved me you wouldn’t be standing here telling me that while your boyfriend is asleep next door. You wouldn’t be saying it in the middle of the fucking night after bringing your boyfriend along on _my_ bloody holiday,” Harry said, “If you loved Mark you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me. And if you loved yourself you’d figure out what you really want, and why you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

“So you don’t want me?” Draco asked, tears still falling freely. 

“I love you Draco,” Harry said, finally letting himself reach out and touch the other man. “I think I always will. But I had to learn how to live without you, and that taught me a lot. I won’t be a way for you to escape whatever you have with Mark, I won’t be just a way for you to feel free. I want to live _with_ you, not _for_ you. And for that to happen you need to love me too.”

“But I do love you,” Draco protested, leaning into Harry’s touch. 

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, “but I’m not sure you know how to love someone without pushing them away. I think in a way, you’re just as broken as I am.”

“What do I do then? How do I earn your forgiveness?” Draco asked, and Harry thought the other man almost looked desperate. 

“It’s not _my_ forgiveness you need,” Harry said. He didn’t mention that Draco already had that from Harry. That Harry was so close to just taking that final step closer and kissing Draco. Harry wanted to pretend it had never happened, but he could see now how toxic that would be for both of them. Harry wanted Draco, but he no longer wanted him more than anything. Most of all, Harry wanted to be ok, and he wouldn’t be if they got together again now. Draco would always feel guilty and trapped, and Harry would always be worried. “You need to forgive yourself. Not just for whatever happened between us, but for what happened in the war.”

“What if I can’t?” Draco asked, not meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“I didn’t think I could forgive myself for any of it,” Harry admitted, “but I’m working on it. It’s not impossible, but if we let this,” Harry gestured between them “happen, then it will be. I don’t want to tell you no, I want to just be with you and forget everything happened, but I will end up desperate not to lose you, and you’ll end up sabotaging it because you’re afraid to be happy.”

“Then what do I do?” Draco asked again, but Harry didn’t want to answer him. He needed Draco to sort his life out, and Harry had to focus on finishing sorting out his own. Draco had to do it for himself though, not for Harry. 

“I don’t know Draco, but I know this can’t happen. Not now,” Harry said, letting go of Draco. “I love you, but right now I have to try and love myself.” Harry closed the door to his room before Draco could reply and started packing, he’d leave Crete in the morning.


	10. Chapter 10

_You're on my "middle of the night" mind_  
Ain't gonna be the last time  
I'll be loving you all my life  
It's going to be another long night  
Kate Voegle 

Harry looked at himself in the mirror, and considered trying to do something with his hair. He was already late for Ginny and Blaise’s New Year’s Eve party, but being a few minutes late to a party was only polite. Probably. Harry smiled at himself in the mirror as he remembered the last party he’d attended at Ginny’s place. That was three years ago now, but it felt strangely like it was both longer and shorter. Harry had been so anxious that day, feeling too small and to large all at once. Then he’d met Draco, and the next New Year’s he’d been too drunk and too depressed to attend. Last year Harry had spent it with Teddy, showing his godson a variety of different fireworks. He hadn’t dared attend a party full of alcohol when he was five months sober. 

Now though, Harry was one year and five months sober, and the temptation to drink was no longer so strong that Harry was scared he wouldn’t be able to resist it. Harry hadn’t touched a drink since his holiday in Crete, actually following through with what he’d told Draco he would. Harry had needed to learn how to love himself, and he mostly had. He still had bad days, figured he always would, but most of the time Harry knew he had worth. Harry had actually gone back to England and joined a muggle twelve-step program, not so much because he thought alcohol was his only problem, but because he realized his drinking was only making it worse. It had been more useful than he imagined, as the muggle who lead the group was of the opinion that alcoholism was more of a symptom than the disease itself. The AA-group met once a week, and talked not only about how to resist the temptation of drinking, but about what made them feel tempted in the first place, and how to deal with that in other ways.

Harry still missed Draco, but it wasn’t as painful anymore. It was a healthier kind of love now, Harry thought, because he still loved Draco, but as long as they could both be happy it didn’t matter as much that they weren’t together. Part of Harry still hoped that they could be, one day, but Draco had left England after their holiday in Crete, and Harry thought he’d probably never see the other man again. He did hope Draco had managed to sort himself out though, and that he was happy. 

“Harry,” Ron called up the stairs, “what’s taking so long?”

“I’m coming now,” Harry called back, “just a sec.” Harry took a last look at himself in the mirror, noticing the contrast to how he’d felt before the last New Year’s party he’d attended. He looked healthier, he thought, and he didn’t feel like he would break if someone looked at him wrong. He grinned at his own reflection, deciding his hair would just have to be, and walked downstairs to find Ron’s head in the floo. 

“You need to pull your head back if you want me to come through,” Harry said, when his friend didn’t move. 

“Uhm, well, I wanted to tell you something first,” Ron said, and he looked more worried than Harry had seen him in ages.

“What?” Harry asked, resisting the urge to pull his friend from the flames and shake the information from him.

“Malfoy’s here,” Ron said, so fast Harry almost didn’t make out the words. 

“Draco? At the party?” Harry repeated, feeling dazed more than anything. Draco hadn’t been in England for over a year now, as far as he knew. 

Ron nodded in the flames, looking at Harry with worried eyes. Harry wondered if Ron was right to worry, but Harry no longer felt an ache in his heart at the sound of Draco’s name. He didn’t feel like he’d break as soon as he saw the other man. Harry, more than anything, just wanted to see Draco again and know that the man was alright. 

“Oh, ok,” Harry said, smiling at his friend. “That’s fine, Ron, really.”

“You sure?” Ron asked, “Because me and Hermione could come through and celebrate at your place like we used to?”

Harry wanted to hug his friend for offering, but he didn’t feel like he needed it. Time, friendships and AA-group could heal the most festering wounds apparently. 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I want to come through,” Harry said, “thanks though.”

 

Harry had a strange sense of deja-vu as he stood in the kitchen making himself a virgin mojito, and spotted Draco laughing with someone in the living room. It took a few minutes for the blond to notice him, and Harry remained in the kitchen. If Draco wanted a chat, they could have it there. It was obvious the moment Draco became aware Harry was there; his whole body froze and he looked terrified for a second. Harry wondered if he was about to run off, but only moments later Draco was entering the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Harry said, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. He’d been prepared for Draco’s presence, but he supposed one could never be totally prepared to meet the man you love after not seeing him for years. 

“Harry,” Draco said, and made a noise that sounded like half laugh, half sob. 

Suddenly all Harry wanted to do was ask if Draco figured out what he wanted, and if it really was Harry. “How are you?” he asked instead. 

“I’m – I,” Draco hesitated. “You were right, you know? I was a mess before.”

Harry didn’t want to hope, or he did want to hope. He just didn’t want the hope to crumble and die. “And now?” he asked, trying to just shut his brain up, with all of its hopes and doubts. 

“Not so much of a mess,” Draco said, grip hardening on his beer. “I – er, I broke up with Mark after we spoke in Crete. And I went to Italy, stayed with my mother for a while, then at my own place. I hadn’t been alone since the war, did you know?”

Harry shook his head. He’d known Draco had been dating someone since Harry had gotten to know him better, but he hadn’t paid much attention before that. 

“Yeah, I counted. I think the longest I’ve been single except these last years were for like, a month,” Draco said. 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent. He’d talked so much the last time they spoke, but now he was just waiting. Wanting. 

Draco took a shuddering breath, and Harry was surprised to see the raw emotion on the other man’s face. “I never felt – I never felt anything for them that even comes close to what I feel about you,” Draco said, his eyes firmly shut. “I think that’s why I pushed you away so much. I was terrified of being alone, but I was terrified to let myself care, and to let myself be cared about terrified me even more.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling absolutely ridiculous. He’d been terrified too of course, and maybe that’s all they had been. Two terrified boys, who never really learned how to be safe and grown up. 

Draco still hadn’t opened his eyes, or released his death-grip on the beer. “I’m not saying it as an excuse. I wasn’t fair to you, at all. It’s just – an explanation.”

Harry hadn’t expected their conversation to be this emotional. To be fair, he hadn’t thought much about what to expect at all, but he knew he didn’t like this – painful, emotional thing. He supposed it was necessary though. “I’m sure me putting absolutely everything I had, good and bad, into us didn’t help much with your anxiety about the whole thing,” Harry said, meaning it. He didn’t feel like he’d been fair to Draco either. 

Draco finally opened his eyes, but didn’t look at Harry when he spoke. “Do you still – I mean, do you think we could, er -.” 

Harry could see Draco struggling, and he really hoped he was trying to ask if they could give it another chance. I’m the fucking Gryffindor, he thought. “It’s still you,” Harry said, “I was so lost when we met, but I’ve found myself I think, and I still love you. I think I always will.”

Draco stopped mid breath, and his eyes snapped to Harry’s. They were so full of emotion Harry no longer had to hope, he was suddenly struck with a certainty that Draco loved him too. Harry didn’t bother thinking about it anymore, he’d done enough thinking. He figured they had done enough talking too, and he was done. 

Draco, apparently, had the same thought because when their lips met Harry couldn’t be sure which one of them had leaned in to close the distance. The kiss felt like coming home after being away for so long you’ve almost forgotten what home feels like. Harry felt all at once free, happy and secure. The kiss heated him from the inside, and everywhere Draco was touching him felt electrically charged. 

When they broke apart for breath Harry felt like he’d finally found the last piece of himself. Hermione would frown, he knew, that Draco was still a part of him. At least, Harry thought, this time Draco was _a part_ , and not Harry’s entire self. Harry leaned in for another kiss, and figured that it didn’t matter that a part of him was Draco, that he wasn’t complete without the other man. Harry had proven to himself that he could live alone, and what did any of it matter as long as he had Draco?

Harry melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms tight around the blond. “I love you,” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips before returning to kissing with a hungry desperation. Harry was fine with part of him belonging to Draco, because now Draco belonged to him as well. 

Just as they had three years ago, Harry and Draco escaped through the floo to Harry’s flat. This time though, Draco went through first, and was there to catch Harry when he fell, as usual, from the fireplace. Harry’s body felt alive with fire and electricity as they kissed. Part of him wanted to undress right then and there, and make Draco take him on the sofa, a larger part though, wanted a bed. 

Draco apparently had the same thought, because he let go of Harry and took a step back. “Fuck, I missed you so much,” he said, eyes never leaving Harry’s. 

Harry smiled at the blond, because he could feel the truth behind the words. “Bedroom?” he asked, “then you can show me how much you missed me.”

Draco took off without another word, walking towards Harry’s bedroom at such a speed that one could almost say he was running. Harry didn’t judge though, as he followed just as swiftly. 

Draco took his time undressing Harry. He started with Harry’s shirt, unbuttoning one button at the time, kissing and licking at the skin he revealed between each one. Harry wanted to return the favour, but he felt too caught up in the pleasure of it. It felt stronger than he remembered it, more intense. Maybe, he thought, it was because this time he also felt loved. 

By the time Draco had undressed him down to his pants Harry thought he might come without Draco ever touching his prick. His entire body was tingling with pleasure, and he could feel every breath of air the other man breathed against the spots on his torso that were still wet from Draco’s tongue. Draco seemed to realise though, because he backed off, and finally started to remove his own clothing. 

Harry hadn’t thought it possible, but he had somehow forgotten just how beautiful Draco was when he was standing naked in front of Harry, hard and desperate. “Fuck, Draco. You’re beautiful,” Harry said, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever told the man before. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco said, smiling. He helped Harry remove his pants, and guided him to the bed. Harry was grateful that Draco’s preference to take charge in bed was still there. Sure, Harry was taking control of his own life these days, but he _liked_ giving it up in the bedroom. Or wherever else he had sex. 

Draco grabbed the lube from Harry’s bedside table, slicking up his fingers. Harry watched in awe, impatient to finally have those long delicious fingers inside him again. When he felt two of them pushing inside, stretching him, Harry moaned. It felt too incredible for words. He looked up at Draco, and saw grey eyes staring back at him with want and awe, and Harry thought, love. Draco moved his hand so that he was hitting Harry’s prostate with every push inside, making Harry gasp for breath. 

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” Harry managed, breathing hard. 

Draco grinned down at him. “Alright,” he said, not slowing his hand. Instead he used his other hand to grab hold of Harry’s aching cock. “We have all the time in the world for this, and I want to watch you fall apart with pleasure.” 

The hand on Harry’s cock started moving then too, and Harry tried pushing back on both hands. Fucking himself on Draco’s fingers, and fucking into the tight hand around him. It was too much, it was too good. He was going to come like this, without Draco getting to fuck him. It was alright though, because they had all night, all week, all year. Harry came with a shout, closing his eyes and letting Draco’s hands fuck and wank him through his orgasm. He curled his toes and bit his lip, feeling the sensations of pleasure and love wash over him.

When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Draco kneeling between his legs, working his own cock with desperation. Harry half wanted to reach out and bring the man off, but the sight of Draco touching himself so wantonly was too good to pass up. Harry lifted his eyes eventually, meeting Draco’s. Something about the look in Harry’s eyes must have done something, because moments later Draco was coming, shooting his sperm over Harry’s stomach where it blended with Harry’s own. 

Draco fell into bed next to Harry, still breathing hard. Harry reached out for his wand to clean up their mess, and then curled into Draco, letting the taller man spoon him. “Just to be painfully clear,” Harry said, half joking – half serious, “this is a relationship. I love you, and I _do not_ share.”

 

 _“Don't blame me, love made me crazy_  
If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right  
Lord, save me, my drug is my baby  
I'd be usin' for the rest of my life”  
Taylor Swift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's read this far! And to the people who've commented along the way. You kept me going! As always, feedback is always appreciated lots and lots and lots.
> 
>  
> 
> Find my beta: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/profile
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: https://cassiaratheslytherpuff.tumblr.com/
> 
> Fic playlist is here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCYVbB3uOYKLRwaSdd7AS5W3Utmg1OXbq


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